


After all I am alive only by accident.

by Anonymous



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Mild Language, Origin of the Sparrow Academy, Suicide, The Sparrow Academy timeline is one in which all of the Umbrella Academy other than Ben is dead, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, Underage Drug Use, everyone other than Ben actually, no beta we die like ben, probably not canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26229712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: One by one, the Umbrella Academy falls.Or: How the Sparrow Academy comes to be.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Ben Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Everyone, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Ben Hargreeves
Comments: 125
Kudos: 156
Collections: Anonymous





	1. I borrow the stilts of an old tragedy.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this.](https://probablydeletethis.tumblr.com/post/626922299317239808/im-kind-of-into-the-idea-that-in-the-sparrow)
> 
> Firstly, this story is already completely written. However, I wrote it as a single continuous story and then split it into chapters later, which means chapter lengths will vary (from quite long to shorter) and sometimes might end abruptly. Sorry about that. I will publish a chapter every few days, probably, as I refine editing etc.
> 
> Secondly, I'm going to ignore the existence of Christopher the cube. I do not feel equipped enough as an author to write about that believably.
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy! 
> 
> Title of the story from the poem ‘A Birthday Present’ by Sylvia Plath.
> 
> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘Electra on Azalea Path’ by Sylvia Plath.

It all began on the morning of November 10th 2002.

Well, it probably started earlier than that. Five had been talking about time travel for months, after all, insisting he could do it, discussing theories with Ben; one of the only two in the house he believed had intelligence comparable to his own. Ben would regret not trying to discourage him more; he knew it was a bit of an extreme idea, but Five had been so enthusiastic. Ben had wanted to support his brother in any way possible. Five’s talk of getting them out, bringing them all back in time with him to somewhere their Father could never reach them – Ben would be lying if he said that he didn’t like the sound of it. Maybe it was Ben’s fault for not begging him to stop.

Five had jumped into Ben’s room the previous afternoon, interrupting some homework he had been in the middle of struggling through. Ben let out a shriek of surprise at the unexpected blue flash and turned around to glare at his brother.

“You’ve gotta help me,” said Five, collapsing back onto Ben’s bed. Ben rolled his eyes.

“Maybe if you  _ knock,  _ like a  _ normal person, _ ” he said, annoyed. He turned back to his homework. “What do you want, Five?”

“I’ve nearly got it,” his brother said, pushing himself back up. “I’ve nearly got it, I can tell – I just need one last variable, but I can’t figure it out for the life of me. Then I can get us out of here... I was hoping maybe you could enlighten me a bit?”

Ben sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get anymore homework done that evening. “Why don’t you ask Vanya?” he tried. 

“She’s not as confident with maths and physics as you or I am,” said Five. “I doubt talking about it will help either, but I could use someone to bounce ideas off?”

Ben looked down at the essay he was trying to finish – he was nearly done, anyway. “Fine,” he said, exasperated. “Dad and Luther aren’t gonna be happy that you’re trying to time travel,” he continued, saying what he’d said many times before. He got out of his desk chair to sit next to Five on his bed. “Are you sure you wanna try it anyway?”

“Yes,” said Five with complete certainty, as he always did. “I know I can do it. I don’t care what Luther or Dad want; I’m gonna do it, and I’m gonna get us out of here. We can go whenever we want.”

He turned to meet Ben’s eyes, and he saw complete, intense devotion. Five would do anything to get them away. 

“Where would you want to go if you could go anywhere in the past?” asked Five. “Anywhere in the world. Any time.”

Ben felt a grin grow on his face. “I think it’d be pretty funny to bring a calculator back to the 1800s,” he said. Five let out a laugh.

The two had an animated discussion that lasted until Ben had to start his personal training. Half of the time Five was talking about complicated quantum physics and displacement theory that Ben didn’t understand, but nodded along to, and the other half was them both discussing how they’d convince Luther to go with them when they eventually left for the past.

Five levelled their father with a stony glare when he came to collect Ben for training, but Ben was feeling more relaxed and happier than he would have been otherwise after their chat. He didn’t hate his training quite as much that day.

The feeling carried over to the evening, where he read in peace in his room for a bit, before Klaus came to bother him. He slept well that night.

Ben had been feeling daring on the chilly morning of November 10th; he had brought a book with him to breakfast to read under the table. Usually he would be more wary of their father’s reaction to this, but Klaus had distracted him from his quiet reading time last night and he wanted to make up for it. 

He tried not to display any outward reaction at the joint Klaus was rolling under the table, and ignored the looks Luther and Allison were shooting at each other. Today was already shaping up to be a long one, he could tell. He distractedly rose a forkful of eggs to his mouth. There was something building at the table, he could feel it – he could see Vanya out of his peripheral vision looking to her left – at Five. He knew Five had gone to hang out with her yesterday after Ben had gone for personal training.

Nothing good could come of this.

He was jostled out of his half-eating-half-reading by a loud bang on the table from across him. He glanced up, annoyed and a little bit concerned – what on earth did Five think he was doing? He had slammed a knife directly into the table – their father would  _ kill  _ him.

He caught the beginning of the exchange; “I have a question.” “Knowledge is an admirable goal…” but tuned out as soon as Five mentioned time travel. Ben loved Five, but he was a little weary of their father’s reaction to his insistence that he could time travel. He didn’t really feel like watching his brother get dragged away for punishment. Ben was happy to help him with ideas, of course, but it got a little tiring after hearing about it for months on end.

He was prompted to look up again when Five disappeared in a flash of blue from his position at the table and reappeared next to their father. He had done it with minimal movement – something Ben knew Five had been having a little bit of difficulty with and that their father had been working on training him on. 

Their father was not impressed – and Ben tuned them both out again, hoping it would end quickly, until he heard a shout from their father, calling for Five to “GET BACK HERE!”. He quickly looked up, and saw a head of dark hair and uniform jacket quickly disappear behind the wall, followed shortly after by the sound of their front door slamming. Five had run off.

Ben knew he’d be back after he cooled off a bit – Five had never liked being denied by their father, and this one had been building up for months. Ben was confident Five only needed a little bit of time to calm down. Then maybe he could help Ben with their maths homework, he had been having a bit of trouble with that, and Five owed him from having interrupted him yesterday.

But Five didn’t come back.

They went through the day and their training in a very strange mix of trying to ignore his obvious absence, awkwardness, and tenseness – their father was good at pretending nothing had happened, and it was easiest to go along with that. Luther looked perpetually annoyed all day; he hated it when anyone tried to rebel against their father, and Five was the best at that.

Ben began to get worried when Five hadn’t returned by lunch time. It was a little nagging thing at the back of his mind; Ben  _ knew  _ Five would come back, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness at one of his siblings being missing. They had all been together their whole lives – the only time one of them wasn’t in group training was if they were doing personal training. It was a Sunday, so none of them had personal training. Ben and Five were supposed to be paired for sparring, and now Ben had to swap with Klaus and Diego.

Surprisingly, it was Allison who pulled Ben aside.

“Where do you think Five went?” She whispered, both of them watching Diego chase Klaus around the training mats. “He should have come back by now, right?” She finished, concern lacing her voice.

“Yeah,” Ben agreed, glancing down at his twisting hands in his lap. He hoped Five would come back soon; the Horror often got restless if Ben got too anxious and he didn’t want another sleepless night. 

“I hope he brings us lots of souvenirs from wherever he’s been to say he’s sorry,” said Allison. Ben smiled a bit. He would be nagging Five about that for at least three days straight once he came back.

Five still hadn’t returned by dinner time, and Ben’s worry had spread to everyone else. Diego and Klaus were fidgety, and even Luther looked more concerned than annoyed when he glanced at Five’s empty spot.

Vanya had been doing private study all day, and so hadn’t heard that Five still wasn’t back. Her face quickly turned to one of dismay as she saw that he hadn’t joined them for their meal.

Once they began eating, she leaned over to Ben and asked as quietly as she could; “Where’s Five? Is he being punished for running off?”

“No,” Ben whispered back. “He hasn’t come back yet. I’m really worried – I hope he comes home soon, Dad’ll be really mad,” 

Vanya went pale and only nodded in agreement before turning back to her food. Neither of them wanted to be caught whispering at the dinner table. The rest of the meal was finished in silence, Ben and Vanya both sparing periodic glances at Five’s empty spot. Diego also kept looking over, absently digging his knife into the table harder. 

Diego caught Ben as they were waiting in line to clean their teeth. Allison and Vanya had one bathroom, while the boys had the one opposite. Vanya was waiting alone outside hers for Allison, while Luther had already finished and Klaus was currently occupying it. 

“Five hasn’t sent you any s-secret messages or anything, has he?” Asked Diego, trying to scowl but coming across as looking worried. 

“What?” Frowned Ben, confused.

“You t-two are always sch-ch-eming together; you guys have to have a way to t-talk to each-other, r-right? Don’t you?” Asked Diego, now looking a little bit unsure.

“We’ve never needed one; we’re always stuck in here,” said Ben, now a bit unsure himself. 

“Oh,” said Diego, frowning. “Well, w-when he comes back, you have to help me kick his a-ass, got it?”

“Absolutely,” smiled Ben. He was sure Vanya would be happy to join as well. Then he was going to organise a joined effort with the rest of them to annoy him for all of next week. He deserved it.

That night, Ben woke up to a shout from Klaus, followed by several crashes and the sound of glass breaking.

Ben scrambled out of bed quickly, rushing to the door. He ran towards Klaus’ room; had something happened?! He could see Luther and Vanya also sleepily sticking their heads out of their rooms.

Ben reached the door, but didn’t bother to knock. He thrust it open, and was greeted with the image of Klaus sobbing on the floor, the shattered shards of what was once a liquor bottle glinting around him. The floor was soaked and the room stunk of alcohol.

“K-Klaus?” Asked Ben, now frightened. He felt Vanya come to stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder, and Luther gently try to push through, but Ben held up and Luther settled for standing beside him instead. 

“What happened?” Whimpered Vanya. Klaus looked up at them.

His eyes were red and a glassy sheen coated them. His bottom lip trembled. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Which was very unusual for Klaus.

“Are you okay?!” Ben asked in alarm. He rushed over to his brother’s side, avoiding any glass shards, and gently hoisted him up. Luther quickly came over to help, and the two of them supported Klaus out of the room before he could get high off alcohol fumes. Luther and Ben exchanged glances, and silently agreed to take him down to their basement recreation room so he could sit comfortably on one of the couches. They moved at a slow pace, Vanya worriedly hovering behind them. Allison and Diego had also appeared by this point; and Ben flashed them both a smile showing his gratitude for their concern. 

The two seemed to know where they were taking Klaus, because they rushed ahead towards the stairs that led to the basement. Vanya ran towards the kitchen, and Ben assumed she had gone to get tea. 

It didn’t take Luther and Ben long to bring Klaus down to the basement. Allison and Diego had moved a pile of random books and papers off of Klaus’ favourite couch, and were waiting with looks of concern on the one opposite. Klaus had been silent except for an occasional wet gasp, and it had unnerved Ben a lot, since Klaus was naturally a talkative person. Ben and Luther set Klaus down gently on the couch, and he all but collapsed.

Ben sat down next to Klaus, gently rubbing his back. Luther went over and sat next to Allison on the opposite couch, and they both watched in concern. Diego was leaning forward, ready to kill whatever had caused this reaction from Klaus.

“What happened?” Ben asked softly.

Klaus shivered. He opened his mouth, but seemed to be choking on his words. “It’s…” He managed to choke out, his voice breaking, but his face twisted and turned red – before he started crying again. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks and he let out a sob before burying his face in his arms.

Ben looked over at the other couch in alarm, unsure what to do. This was not something he was used to doing with Klaus. More often than not, the others comforted  _ him  _ at night, after a nasty mission or brutal training session. 

They were distracted by the clinking sound of teacups coming down the stairs, and then Vanya appeared carrying a tray of steaming tea. She quickly set it down on the low coffee table between the two couches, and after looking around for a second, decided to take a seat on the floor after taking a cup for herself.

Ben took a cup from the tray, and gently passed it to Klaus. “Drink,” he goaded, hoping the tea would help open his throat and calm him down. Klaus’ hands were shaking; tea dribbled down the sides as he absently rose the cup to his lips, still hiccuping and his face still red.

They waited in silence as Klaus managed to take a long gulp. Finally, he set the now empty cup back down on the coffee table, his sobs having turned into deep, harsh breaths. Klaus sounded like he could break back down any minute, and Ben was hit with a spike of deep worry.

“What happened, Klaus?” Allison asked gently after a few seconds of silence. “You’re kind of scaring us. Are you okay?”

Klaus shook his head. He took in a slow, deep breath, and let it out shakily. 

“It’s Five,” he whispered hoarsely. Ben barely caught it; but as soon as he comprehended Klaus’ words, his eyes widened and he felt a horrible, deep pit of fear settle in his stomach. 

The others hadn’t heard, clearly, as Luther leaned forward a bit and Diego said, “S-sorry, again?”

Klaus took another deep breath. “It’s Five,” he said again, this time more loudly. His voice was scratchy and wavering.

Vanya’s eyes widened at that, instantly connecting the dots. Allison raised a fist to her mouth in uncertainty, not wanting her hunch to be correct, and Diego didn’t show any outward reaction. Luther was a bit slower on the uptake. 

“Five?” He asked in confusion. “What about him? We haven’t seen him since –” 

He cut off abruptly all of a sudden, and Ben knew that they knew. 

“He’s dead,” whispered Klaus, as if it had needed confirmation. “I saw him. In my room.”

There was silence. “...A-are you sure it was him?” Asked Ben after a minute, unable to bear it, his eyes wide.

Klaus nodded. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I saw him... he just appeared in my room, and because he likes to do that, I – I thought he had just come back,” He continued, his voice low. “I started talking to him. You know, asking him where he went, laughing at him because d-dad was gonna k-kill him, and I expected him to tell me to shut up, or something, b-but,” he said, his voice cracking. “But, he j-just kept staring at me, and – and when I went to poke him to get a reaction – I thought h-he was just being weird – my hand…”

Klaus didn’t need to finish. His hand had gone through.

Klaus began to sob again. “A-and I have n-no idea what h-happened, b-but I was s-so shocked, I just saw blue, and then he was  _ gone;  _ and I thought he had teleported but he couldn’t have, because I  _ felt  _ something, and when I t-tried to get him t-to come back, he wouldn’t c-come, and I –”

Klaus had dropped his drink and started crying, because he had just found out the brother who had run off that very morning was dead.


	2. One labyrinthine tangle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘Full Fathom Five’ by Sylvia Plath

They weren’t quite sure what to do – they were a bunch of thirteen year olds, and conspiring together about their brother’s death without telling any adults felt like they were hiding his body somehow, even though they had briefly gone looking and hadn’t found it. Klaus hadn’t managed to see his ghost again – and didn’t know why or what had happened.

It took a total of two days of crying and intense stress before Luther cracked and went and told their father, and before they knew it, they were gathered outside on a crisp, cold, November morning in order to bury an empty coffin.

Vanya cried the whole time, not even trying to be silent about it, and their father gave the worst eulogy Ben could have ever imagined. 

“Number Five did not heed my warnings, and his foolish attempt at using his power to time travel proved too much for him and his body was destroyed,” said their father in a clipped manner. Vanya cried harder, the sound digging into Ben’s very soul and causing more tears to roll out of his own eyes and onto the ground below. “This could have been avoided had he listened to what I was telling him. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you, to remind you not to use your powers recklessly and stupidly.”

Ben let out a sob of his own, and he heard someone else do the same, but he couldn’t tell who. He couldn’t even remember the last thing he had  _ said  _ to Five. The idea of his brother, ripped apart, just –

Ben cried in bed that night. He would never see Five again. Five was – Five was dead. Klaus couldn’t even summon him so they could get another chance to talk to him. 

After Five, things got quieter and more tense around the house. Something invisible that Five’s presence had provided was gone, and everyone was on edge a lot more than usual. Some strange blanket feeling of safety Ben hadn’t been aware was there was gone. Vanya spent most of her time crying in her own room or crying in Five’s room. Her violin practice, when she managed to pick it up, sounded depressing and horrible and Ben nearly preferred the sound of crying.

Ben went to the courtyard to stand in front of his brother’s grave sometimes. Sometimes alone, sometimes someone else was there. The most frequent visitors were Klaus and Vanya. Ben had caught Klaus shaking and straining in front of there a few times his fists clenched, murmuring “ _ come on, come on…”  _ over and over to himself, but Ben didn’t think he ever had any luck. Ben often found Vanya knelt in front of the headstone, her head bowed, a freshly picked flower or peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich laid out in front of her.

Whenever Ben went, he used it as a way to vent his feelings to his dead brother. 

“Things… aren’t going well,” he whispered one day, in the few spare minutes between training and lunch. “You being gone is really messing us up, Five,” he said. “I miss you. We all miss you. Vanya’s a wreck – she won’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do – why didn’t you listen to Dad, Five?” He let out a sniff, then immediately felt guilty. How could he blame Five? “I hope this is a nightmare. I hope you actually time travelled and are safe, away from here,” he said, his voice shaking. 

He knew it wasn’t true, though. Not with how Klaus reacted. Klaus had definitely seen Five that night, as dead and unreachable as any other ghost.

Training got worse. The rest of them had developed a newfound wariness of their powers when before there had only been confidence – Ben knew that’s what their father wanted, but he didn’t care. If it meant Luther watched his strength and Allison thought twice before speaking, he was okay with it. 

Aside from the crying, Vanya had retreated in other ways. She, Ben and Five used to often spend time together; in the library, in their rooms, doing homework, chatting, playing pretend. But that had stopped. Whenever Ben sought her out, she would sit and stare blankly at the wall or her book and it disturbed Ben deeply. She barely spoke anymore. He didn’t know how to help her. Ben’s own grief stopped him from thinking clearly about it, and he ended up leaving her be.

Klaus, Ben’s usual alternative, wasn’t much better to hang out with. He often muttered to himself during class or free time. Ben noticed he had stopped with the alcohol, for now, but he wasn’t sure attempting to talk to Five all day was any healthier. Klaus had done something in his shock at realising Five was dead that first night – and he hadn’t been able to reach him again. Their father thought he had banished him, and had given Klaus a rare “Good job, Number Four,”. Except it was bad, because it had been their brother that Klaus had banished. He hadn’t been able to replicate it for any other ghost, and that was making Klaus worse.

Ben was grieving too; a horrible, gnawing emptiness had settled in his soul at the absence of their brother, but he was trying very hard not to be self destructive about it. He knew his own power would react terribly to that, and so with Luther and Allison having found solace in each other, he often went to Diego during their free time for the benefit of both of them.

Diego and Five hadn’t been the closest; they had often butted heads and Five’s natural rebelliousness had always been in competition with Diego’s, but Ben knew Diego loved Five fiercely, like the rest of their siblings. Diego wasn’t handling it well; hesitation in using his powers was very unusual for him, but despite that he wanted to spar more. Ben ended up sparring with him quite a bit, both of them using it as a way to let out their pent up emotions. Ben knew Diego thought that if he trained more, maybe he could protect the rest of them better – and Ben couldn't help but indulge it, letting some sort of desperate hope that it would help somehow keep him going. 

Their father, of course, acted like nothing had changed. He gave them a single day off from training, “out of respect for their brother”, but after that it was back to normal.

The new normal, anyway. The normal without Five in it.

Because of this, it came to no surprise when two weeks after Five’s death, the mission alarm rang throughout the halls one afternoon. Ben had been having some time to himself; Allison and he were in the library, Allison working on some homework and Ben reading. 

They both looked up when the high pitched wail tore through the silence, then their eyes met.

“...Ready?” Asked Allison reluctantly, starting to pack up her homework.

“...I guess,” sighed Ben in reply. What choice did they have? 

They both left to their respective change rooms to get changed into their new mission outfits. Ben thought they looked stupid; some sleek black material that was really uncomfortable. His one had a massive zip down the middle, of course, so he could let the Horror out without ruining the suit. 

They lined up in numerical order – Ben and Allison were next to each other for a bit, because Klaus always took the longest to come down. Usually it was Ben and Five, but.

Their father came down before Klaus, which was unusual, but had happened before. They all waited in silence while their father paced, his face becoming stonier every second Klaus didn’t show. 

After a minute or two, Klaus came stumbling down the stairs, still shoving one arm into the sleek suit. Ben stepped aside to make room for him, and Klaus hopped into his spot.

“Number Four, you tardiness is unacceptable,” their father growled, whacking his cane on the ground pointedly.

“I-I’m sorry sir,” mumbled Klaus, zipping up his suit. “What was that?” Their father barked. “Speak up Number Four, nobody will listen to you if you speak in such a way!”

Klaus muttered something under his breath that sounded like ‘nobody listens anyway,’ but said louder, “I’m sorry, sir,”

“Good.” Growled their father. “We do not have time to discuss your punishment now, Number Four. This is a very dangerous mission, and you all need to be at attention for the briefing,”

Klaus, having finished with his suit, stood up straight. Their father began giving them the details on what they’d be doing. 

The mission did indeed sound dangerous – this wasn’t one of their usual bank robberies or petty crimes. A terrorist organisation had overtaken an entire slew of buildings and had wired bombs everywhere. Ben’s eyes widened – he usually felt dread at missions, but that was normally dread at having to use his powers. This time, he felt a deeper dread. This sounded too advanced for them. They were thirteen year olds.

He didn’t dare voice his thoughts as they silently and efficiently filed into the long black car that would take them to a location nearby the buildings. Their job was to apprehend the terrorists in the centre building, free the hostages, find the location of the bombs, and deactivate them. Their father had mentioned that the city’s police and SWAT teams would be helping too, but without Five, this job was seeming much harder and more dangerous than it already was. 

Ben felt sorry for Luther. If the prospect of this job was making Ben nervous, it must have been completely killing Luther. He was responsible for whatever actions they ended up taking, after all, and one of their most useful players was no longer an option; not to mention the emotional stress because of that.

The drive was tense and silent. Ben sat next to Klaus, who was fidgeting and moving around constantly, and Luther was jiggling his leg like he always did when he got nervous before a mission. Diego kept pulling a knife out of his harness, holding it like he wasn’t sure why he had pulled it out, and putting it back. It was distracting, but Ben wasn’t complaining. He had a wicked stomach ache and would be sick if he was left alone with his own thoughts. 

Allison was the only one sitting still, staring out the window as the city passed by. He caught her brow furrowed in concern, and couldn’t help but think of Vanya; she was at home all alone again, for the first time since Five. Vanya had been staring out the window a lot lately too. Ben felt a stab of guilt at not having been there for her lately – he made a promise to himself he would try to rekindle their friendship when they got back, even if it wouldn’t be quite the same without Five. Ben really hoped she would be okay with just Mum for company in the meantime.

Another slew of minutes, and the car began to slow. Luther took a deep breath, and stood up. The five of them left the car silently, following their nervous leader. 

“Very well,” their father said – having already left the car – when they were lined up in front of him. “Number One, please relay your plan,”

Luther stepped up beside their father, and looked at his siblings determinedly.

“Okay guys,” he said seriously. “This is a dangerous mission, and there’s lots to do. Our most reliable scout isn’t here, so we need to work harder to make up for it, got it?” 

Ben felt a stab of hurt for his dead brother at that, but didn’t say anything, and neither did any of the others.

“Good,” continued Luther, not having expected a reply. “Since the police and SWAT teams are here helping us too, we can afford to have more people out looking for the bombs than going in to confront the terrorists,” he said. “Four, I need you to ask any ghost you can find if they know anything about the location of the bombs. Two, you go with him so you can disarm any they know about with your knives. Give some to Four so he can help you,”

Klaus grinned at that while Diego growled. Ben felt the hint of a smile pull at his lips – Diego was very possessive of his knives. 

“I’ll come as well. I can rip apart the wires with my strength, and we need to find and deactivate as many bombs as possible. That leaves you two,” he turned to Allison and Ben, “To go in and deal with the hostages. Three, you can Rumour the terrorists to let them go, and Six, you can take them all out if they’re a large group. If it’s too much, the police and SWAT team will come to help you out. Alright guys,” he said, his voice wavering a bit. “We’ve got this. Ready?”

They all gave the affirmative, and after a glance at their unreactive father, they were off. 

Ben and Allison grouped together, then made their way over to the police Commissioner at the front of the large squad to get the location of the hostages. It was the building closest to them, so they made their way up.

“How are we gonna do this?” Asked Ben as they climbed the stairs. The lift was too much of a security risk for them to take. “They’ve probably done their research – I’m sure they’ll know what our powers are. Have you learnt to throw your voice yet?” 

“No,” sighed Allison. “Me and Dad haven’t been working on that lately. I wish we had been though, that would have been really useful. We’ll just have to take them by surprise, I think,” she said. “Yeah, okay,” said Ben unsurely. It seemed a bit too risky, but he was struggling to clear his head enough to think of anything better. 

There soon wasn’t enough time anyway, as the building wasn’t very tall and they quickly reached the floor the hostages were on. Ben made sure to open the stairwell door as silently as possible, and then the two crept through, closing the door quietly. They glanced at each other and pressed themselves against the hallway wall.

They both looked around – the hallway was empty, and there was no indication of where the terrorists actually were. Ben and Allison strained their ears and looked around – and through some quick whispered discussion over the smartest place to hold hostages, decided they would probably be in the lobby of this floor.

The two made their way over there quickly and silently, like they had been trained. They found the hostages and a large group of terrorists, as predicted, and Ben felt his stomach roil in a mix of terror, nausea and stress, and hoped desperately he wouldn’t be sick. The two of them hid behind the doorway, still not having figured out a better plan than to surprise them.

They observed what was happening as best as they could for a few minutes; but it was the terrified whimpers of one of the hostages that finally prompted them to take action. 

Allison caught Ben’s eye and rose a single finger to her lips. Ben nodded – that was their signal to start using sign language. Their father had forced them to learn it for situations like these, where they needed to communicate silently.

_ I’ll rumour him to shoot his friends,  _ Allison signed, indicating to the closest guard.  _ While they’re distracted, we can free the hostages, then get out of here, okay?  _

_ Okay,  _ Ben signed back.

Ben stayed back and watched as Allison took a breath, then put on her hero facade. She skipped up to the guard nearby the door – 

And then there was red. Ben didn’t quite see what happened – Allison just stopped, and Ben hadn’t heard her talk yet, but she suddenly stumbled back and brought her hands to her throat. Scrabbling. 

Ben’s mind went blank when he registered a faint flick of a dark red on her fingertips. The guard she had just walked up to was facing her, staring down at her coldly, and the tip of the bayonet affixed to the end of his rifle was stained that same dark red. 

Allison choked silently, before gasping and letting out a wet cough. Blood splattered onto the floor.

No.

The other terrorists hadn’t even noticed. The single guard loomed over Allison. He had been silent, quick and efficient. 

No.

Ben was frozen. 

His first instinct was to scream – but he couldn’t. He quelled that instantly – that would not help in any regard. His second instinct was to rush out and give the Horror what it wanted – and kill every terrorist in the room. But he couldn’t do that, because there were still hostages. And Allison.

She wasn’t dying. She  _ wasn’t.  _ She couldn’t be, not like this. Not so soon after Five. He needed to get her out of there, he needed to help her, she needed medical attention.

He needed to stop these terrorists before they did any more damage.

Allison collapsed on the floor, on her back, still choking and coughing. Blood was splattered all across her face, and dribbling down from the gash in her neck, staining the floor. The guard had turned away, and the others still hadn’t noticed anything. 

Ben didn’t even think – one glance at his sister’s face and one squirm from his stomach, and he was already pulling at the zip down the front of his suit. He stepped through the doorway, ducking underneath the guard’s expected swing of his rifle, and turned to the hostages.

“HEY!” He screamed to get their attention. Every eye in the room was instantly on him; he figured they must be too shocked to shoot, so he acted before they could shake it off.

“GET DOWN!” he shouted to the hostages, then ripped open his stomach.

He watched without registering as the Horror writhed forth – and saw, with a bit of satisfaction, fear in some of the criminal’s eyes. He knew he had a reputation for leaving no survivors. 

His eyes followed one of the tentacles with a detached coldness as it grasped the soldier who had hurt his sister. The man swung his rifle forward, and – 

Ben felt blistering heat cutting through his face as the bayonet still stained with Allison’s blood caught the ridge of his nose, cutting deeply all the way down to his cheek. The soldier had a crazed glint in his eyes and a wicked grin on his face. The tentacle ripped him in half.

Ben screamed.

* * *

Allison was heavy in his arms as he dragged her limp form as fast as he could down the stairs. She was too heavy to carry, and his heart was racing with anxiety. He needed to get her out of here. He needed to get her help.

The Horror had killed all the terrorists; he hadn’t stuck around long enough to see if it had killed any hostages. He didn’t want to think about it. They could get themselves out. 

Ben was more thankful than ever for the short height of the building when it didn’t take him as long as he was expecting to reach the bottom. He barely felt the deep stabbing ache of the cut on his face through the adrenaline as he finally managed to hoist Allison up in his arms in a half-carry-half-drag now that he wasn’t on a staircase. He ran out of the building, not looking back. 

He somehow made his way back to their father’s car with Allison unresponsive against him. He couldn’t remember how; just running.

“Number Six!” Their father barked when he came into view. 

“Please help her,” was all Ben managed to gasp out, begging. He could no longer run; Allison was too heavy, he was too tired. He limped pathetically over to their father, managing to hold Allison out. 

“Help,” he begged again, not caring about addressing him in the proper manner.

There was silence and incomprehension for a split second as their father stared at Allison. Ben let out a terrified sob, and this seemed to spur him into action. 

“Give her to me,” he snapped, roughly taking Allison beneath her arms. Ben sobbed again, collapsing to the ground like water once he was relieved of her weight. He knelt there, shaking and unable to move, as their father roughly laid her out in the back seat. Ben couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not.

Their father turned to Ben. “I am taking Number Three back to the Academy for medical attention,” he said in a clipped manner. “Number Six, I am very disappointed in you. I expect you to think about what has happened to Number Three, and to go and help your brothers with their task since you have failed so terribly at yours.”

Ben could only hiccup and shake on the ground as their father quickly got into the sleek black car and drove away. 

It took him a minute or two to calm down enough to stagger back onto his feet. He wiped his hand across his face absently – it came back stained in fresh blood over the top of the crusted old blood from the criminals the Horror had killed. Oh, that was right – that guard had cut his face. His father hadn’t mentioned it – he supposed it must look indeterminable from the rest of the blood he was soaked in.

Ben wiped off his hands on his shorts absently, before thinking vaguely that he should find the police Commissioner so he could get the location of his brothers. 

After a cloudy haze of movement, Ben somehow found himself in front of the Commissioner. He was moving places without thinking about it – his body taking action where his mind couldn’t.

“Ah, the skinny one managed to find a useful ghost, I think,” the Commissioner said thoughtfully when asked. “He and the other two spread around the block to deactivate the bombs it knew about. I’ve received word from my squad that there are only two buildings left with active bombs in them; one four streets away and one two streets away. You should go and help your brothers at one of those, if you could,” he said.

Ben could only nod. The Commissioner gave him the exact address to the closest one, and then Ben was stumbling away, remaining in his shocked haze, still trying to process what had just happened. 

He arrived at the building to find Luther and Klaus already a safe distance outside from it. They both shot him wide-eyed looks through their masks – he must look horrifying, covered in blood, barely watching where he was walking. 

“W-where’s Diego?” He managed to stammer out, having come to stand next to Luther. 

“He’s still in there trying to work out the bomb,” Replied Luther, staring at him for another moment before turning back to the building. “Me and Klaus took care of the other one – there’s just this one left, then we’re done,” He said, relief in his voice. “How did your part of the mission go? Where’s Allison?” 

Ben opened his mouth, but nothing came out. How was he supposed to tell his siblings that their sister was dying or maybe even already dead and it was partially his fault? 

“It went fine, didn’t it?” Said Klaus unexpectedly, leaning around Luther. “You have this really angry creepy guard ghost following you around. It looks like he got ripped in half – did the Horror kill him?” 

Ben could only nod numbly. Of course that guy would follow him around – of course he would. 

“What about Allison?” Asked Luther in concern. “And you – were either of you injured?”

Ben didn’t even think to mention his cut across the face – he was barely ever hurt on missions and Allison was so much worse. Unable to bring himself to recount exactly what had happened, he went for the simplified version.

“She…” he said hoarsely. “She had to go home. With Dad.”

Luther’s eyes widened at this, and Klaus made a questioning noise. “That bad?” He asked, now seeming worried as well.

Ben could once again only nod.

They were interrupted when the front door of the building slammed open and a figure came rushing out. They could see from across the road that it was Diego, sprinting towards them on the other side of the wide street.

“I c-can’t deactivate it,” he called out to them. “We gotta g-get out of here – it’s g-gonna blow, c-come on,  _ let’s go –” _

None of them bothered to question him. Ben took a deep breath and tried to pull together his focus – they had to run. They followed his lead and took off towards where the car had been before it had taken Allison back to the mansion. 

“What’s the matter?!” Luther asked Diego over the wind rushing in their ears.

“The wires are too s-strong, my knives won’t c-cut em,” panted Diego. “I tried for as l-long as I could, but –” 

“HELP!” 

He was cut off by a sudden scream. Coming from the direction of the building, that was obviously not as evacuated as they thought.

Diego stopped in his tracks and whipped his head around. The rest of them skid to a stop once they noticed he had been left behind.

“Come on Diego, we gotta run!!” Yelled out Klaus, gesturing towards the end of the street. “We don’t wanna be blown to bits, right?!” 

“H-HELP!”

Diego glanced back at them, and Ben knew.

“Sorry guys,” he said tightly, turning back towards the building and beginning to run.

“NO!” Luther yelled out. He began to chase after Diego, his strength working to make him faster. Diego had always been one of the fastest of them – being agile and naturally athletic. Ben and Klaus didn’t have any hope of catching up to them.

“C-cmon-!” Yelled Klaus, shaking off his shock faster than Ben. “Luther’ll get him, let’s  _ go!” _

Unable to argue or do anything else, Ben complied.

* * *

The two made it back to where the car had been parked in record time, two blocks away, panting and sweating, shaking with adrenaline. Ben’s from earlier still hadn’t worn off entirely, so he was feeling utterly jittery but still in a bit of a haze. His thoughts weren’t obeying him, slipping through his fingers whenever he tried to grasp one. Klaus hadn’t noticed yet – he was busy chattering quickly to himself, something he often did under the influence of adrenaline. 

“Luther’ll be back soon,” he rambled. “He’ll have Diego, c’mon, c’mon, they’ve gotta be coming back by now, c’mon, it’s not  _ that far, c’mon, what’s taking so long –” _

Ben listened to Klaus, and once again scrambled for a grip on his mind. Diego had gone back to save someone still in that building, and Luther had chased after him because that was a stupid idea. Ben was more worried about Diego than Luther; Luther’s powers allowed him to withstand things like explosions from a much closer distance than others, but he still worried for both of them. They were fast runners, but his quickly panicking mind didn’t think they were fast  _ enough –  _

His thoughts were cut off by a sudden, massive, loud noise and flash of light – the building had blown up. Ben and Klaus both ducked and threw their arms over their heads – Klaus let out a loud screech that was drowned out by the horrible blast. They were buffeted with warm wind and small bits of debris, not much being able to reach them from their distance away. He felt sick. He felt so, so sick.

Ben remained kneeling and still, his arms over his head, breathing heavily, his heart hammering against his ribcage at breakneck pace. The Horror writhed.

They had to have made it out – 

They had to be okay. They couldn’t get hurt, not when Allison was dying, not when they had just lost Five...

He and Klaus sat there, frightened, not sure what to do, for an indeterminable amount of time. Ben’s ears were ringing from the loud explosion; had it stopped yet? Could they go home? He wanted to make sure Allison was okay, he wanted to say sorry, he wanted to see Vanya – 

Ben felt a harsh shake on his shoulder. Unwinding his arms from around his head, he looked up in confusion.

It was Luther. His face was twisted in a horrible grimace, and tears were rolling down his red, blotchy cheeks. He was letting out quiet gasps, continuing to shake Ben even as he looked up. His other hand was shaking Klaus, who had jerked up and was now staring into the distance with an expression of horror.

One look at Luther’s face, and Ben’s stomach dropped to the floor. 

“Dieguh,” he managed to force out, his throat having gone tight. Luther shook his head, his expression crumpling, finally letting go of Ben’s shoulder. He collapsed to the ground, curling up in a ball and tucking his knees to his chest. 

No.

_ “He’s only got half a head!”  _ Ben heard Klaus scream, pointing to something only he could see.

Ben turned around and threw up.


	3. Bronzed as earth, the second lies,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘Two Sisters of Persephone’ by Sylvia Plath

Mum ended up having to put stitches in the deep gash across his face, and she said that it would probably scar. Ben… couldn’t really find it in himself to care.

Their father had never ended up coming back for them on that mission. They had laid there, terrified and shocked and their brains completely short-circuited with stress _ ,  _ stuck in a perpetual freeze reaction. Klaus kept laughing, tears rolling down his face, letting out gasping sobs, waving his hands around and shouting “ _ I can’t understand you! I can’t understand you!”  _ Luther had stayed shaking, curled up on the ground. Ben retreated back into his haze, staring blankly ahead.

Things happened around them. The police squad was there – they had been helping disarm the bombs and arresting the terrorists that were scattered around the rest of the area – they ran around, calling out to each other, talking into radios. A large group of them hurried past them towards what must have been the rubble of the building.

Somebody took pity on them eventually, after what must have been an hour of sitting in shock. The police Commissioner, his face grave, gently helped them up and guided them to his car. 

“You boys stay in here,” he said softly. He didn’t ask where Diego was.

He left, and the three of them sat in his car for a while. Klaus had stopped laughing and was now just loudly crying, letting out these pathetic sniffles and wails which helped ground Ben and stopped him from fully dissociating. Luther was just as much of a mess; he was trying to be strong for his remaining brothers, but was failing. He just couldn’t stop the silent tears that kept rolling down his face, his teeth grit and his fists clenched. Ben knew he wanted to lead them, somehow – but it was impossible. They had no idea what to do. Luther’s mind was too muddled, and Ben wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry out instructions right now anyway.

Ben… Ben was lost. Ben was lost in his own haze, Klaus’ cries reminding him that he was still with his two remaining brothers. His two… remaining brothers.

His mind played it back to him. Diego turning around to face them; even though he wore a mask, Ben could imagine the determined fire in his eyes. He said something –  _ “Sorry guys” _ – and ran back, in slow motion, towards the building set to blow. Luther yelled and ran after him, but Ben was pathetically frozen, unable to do  _ anything  _ to stop Diego. Nothing. He was useless. 

He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

The Commissioner came back after a few minutes, but Ben barely registered it. He heard Luther let out a wet sniff and straighten up beside him. At least one of them was paying attention. “I’ll drive you all home – and I’ll speak to your father for you, don’t worry,” said the Commissioner, his voice sounding distant. 

Ben wanted to go home. He  _ hated  _ this mission. He wanted Diego. He wanted Five. He wanted to see Allison, he wanted to see Vanya, he  _ wanted his Mum.  _ He wanted his Mum.

It was this thought which finally jerked Ben out of his stupor, and the dam finally broke. Ben burst into tears, matching Klaus’ loud cries and causing Luther to duck his head and hold his own tears with less success. 

The Commissioner drove them back to the Academy, as promised. He helped them out of the car, and guided them to the door, a gentle hand on Ben’s shoulder. Mum answered, and Ben threw himself at her, thrusting his hands around her waist.

“Oh, darling,” she cooed, stroking his blood matted hair with a mechanical hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” 

A few hours later, the three of them were cleaned up and the police Commissioner had left, having spoken with their father about what had happened. They had managed to get all the bombs, except for the last one. Diego had run back to save someone who hadn’t evacuated in time, but neither of them had made it out. Allison and Ben’s efforts with the hostages in the building were not totally futile, thankfully – most of the hostages had gotten out unharmed. Ben didn’t want to know what had happened to the ones who hadn’t. 

They hadn’t seen Vanya since they returned – and Ben was utterly terrified of facing her. He had let her down so much. He knew their father wouldn’t bother to mention anything to her – so that left that job to them. The absolute shame Ben felt at the prospect of having to tell Vanya another one of her brothers was dead, and her sister was horribly injured, made him feel sick all over again.

Their father was absolutely livid. Ben had never seen him so mad; he called for a meeting in one of the training rooms, and none of them dared think of skipping, not even Klaus. The three of them lined up, in their pathetic excuse of a numerical order, while their father loomed over them, his cold, calculating, stony fury being much scarier than yelling.

“This mission was an absolute  _ catastrophe,”  _ he said, his voice cutting directly into their souls. He turned his thunderous glare onto Luther, who flinched and shrunk back; which he often didn’t do when faced with their father. “Number One, your plan was atrocious. It not only resulted in Number Three being gravely injured, but it also resulted in the  _ unfortunate  _ loss of Number Two.”

Luther’s bottom lip trembled and he let out a barely perceivable whimper – but Ben heard it.

“Not only that, but there were several civilian casualties in the resulting explosion. You are  _ lucky  _ there were only minimal deaths among those; the Umbrella Academy’s reputation must remain at its utmost highest. This will not happen again. Do you  _ understand me?”  _

Luther nodded frantically, unable to form words. He stared at the floor, unable to meet their father’s gaze, a first for him. 

“You are also lucky that the police squad present at the scene managed to recover Number Two’s body,” their father continued, unfazed by mentioning the death of one of his adoptive children. “Otherwise, I might have sent you back there to look for it yourselves, understood?”

All three of them nodded this time, erratically, not wanting to think about that in any capacity. Their father turned his fury onto Klaus next, who shrunk back and started to shake.

“You have been staring at the corner of the room, Number Four,” he snarled. “I assume this means that Number Two’s phantom is present. I am aware of the condition his body was recovered in; let looking at his remains serve as a reminder of your utter failure to prevent his death. Am I  _ understood _ _?”_

Klaus nodded shakily, his eyes now darting around, unwilling to confirm or deny their father’s statement. 

“Very well,” their father snapped. “Your personal training will be increased following this discussion. It is possible for Number Two to remain useful to the Umbrella Academy if you are able to harness him properly with your abilities. Is that  _ also  _ understood?”

Klaus, now looking considerably more terrified, nodded again.

Finally, their father turned to Ben, and Ben, like his brothers, instinctively shrunk back, making himself as small as possible in the face of their father’s horrifying wrath. 

“Number Six, you have failed the most on this mission.” He stated. “Not only did you allow Number Three to get grievously injured, but you were present when Number Two ran off and also failed to stop him. Your insolence has cost the Umbrella Academy not one, but two valuable members. You will not fail in such a way again. Am I clear?”

Ben nodded, feeling tears well up again. His throat felt tight and his face felt hot. 

“You are very lucky your reckless attack resulted in a positive outcome, Number Six. Anything less and I would have had to increase the severity of your training, yes?” Their father stared down at his cowering form. Ben felt a horrible sense of shame and fear, and could once again only nod. 

“Good. In that case, I suppose it is courtesy to update you on Number Three’s condition,” he said, this time training his gaze on all three of them. Luther straightened just a little bit, Klaus stared at the ground, and Ben looked up – a faint spark of hope lit up in his chest.

“She has been placed in a medically induced coma for the foreseeable future due to the severity of her injuries,” Their father said. “It is unknown when she will wake up. That is all.”

He turned on his heel, and left.

Luther let out a cry of anguish, and Ben felt like breaking.

* * *

Their father became increasingly more cold and seemed to be perpetually ashamed of them after that mission. He barely ever acknowledged Luther, hardly looked at Ben beyond training, and pushed Klaus brutally and mercilessly. Vanya was another matter altogether – Ben wasn’t even sure if he remembered she still existed.

Despite this, he still held a funeral for Diego; but just as Ben had predicted, he hadn’t bothered to mention anything to Vanya. Ben thought it would be awful for her to find out on the day of the funeral, so he tried to gather the nerve to go and do it himself.

When he found her a crying mess in her room, he knew someone – probably Luther or Pogo – had already done it. He felt bad, but – he was glad he didn’t have to. He joined her sitting on her bed, and they spent the night grieving in each other’s company. Ben woke up the next morning feeling exhausted and drained, leaning against her headboard, Vanya’s head on his shoulder. 

The funeral was… terrible. It felt empty, cold, distant. Allison wasn’t there, and it still felt like Five should be there, too. It was miserable – in a brilliant display of pathetic fallacy, it had started raining and hadn’t stopped. Ben could hardly hear what their father was saying over the thunderous pattering, but he didn’t want to. He had made it apparent exactly how much he cared by what he had said to them after that mission. 

Ben stood next to Vanya, them both sharing a large umbrella, as they watched the casket get lowered into the ground. This one had a body, unlike the one buried next to it, but it was closed due to the gruesome nature of Diego’s remains. Vanya cried softly, having used up most of her hysterics the previous evening, and Ben grit his teeth but managed to keep himself together for once, only letting silent tears stream down his face. For Vanya. She didn’t need to see him break right now. 

Luther was unbearable to watch. He looked… broken. His head was down, the umbrella he was holding was trembling, and he was letting out quiet sobs. He was the perfect picture of solemn mourning, but it was so much worse. Ben thought he looked lost – without most of his team. Ben quickly turned away whenever his eyes caught sight of him. 

Klaus was… acting strange. He wasn’t crying, though he looked close to it – he looked anxious, fidgety, fumbling around with his hands and his umbrella and his pockets. He kept glancing at a particular spot in the courtyard and cringing heavily – Ben could guess why. He looked like he wanted to get away as fast as he could. Ben really couldn’t blame him. 

It was over just as fast as Five’s had been – Five’s grave now with a fresh pile of dirt exactly thirty centimetres to it’s right. Klaus absconded as soon as it was over, stumbling inside for reprieve from the rain and whatever he had been seeing, while Luther, Ben and Vanya all shuffled closer together in front of the two headstones.

“I’m so sorry,” Luther whispered, bowing his head. “I should have stopped you. Both of you, I…” He sniffled, and tears dripped into the fresh mud, indiscernible from the rain. “The team’s not right without you. The house isn’t right without you, please…” He trailed off. Ben and Vanya were silent. Luther knelt in between the two stones for a few seconds, before standing up abruptly and running inside. 

Ben and Vanya were left alone, in the pouring rain, in front of the two graves of their brothers. One fresh, one barely a few weeks old. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Vanya sniffled, knelt through the rain, and gently laid down a wreath of flowers she had set aside made by their mother in front of Diego’s headstone. Ben knew he would never admit it, but Diego would have loved it.


	4. Even our shadows are blue with cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘A Winter Ship’ by Sylvia Plath

Their father had left the mansion a few days ago, but hadn’t told any of them where he was going. He had left them with Pogo and Mum, both of whom gave cryptic non-answers when asked. That was fine, Ben was happy he was gone anyway.

Ben found himself alone a lot of the time these days. Luther spent most of his time at Allison’s bedside, and Vanya had completely retreated into her room whenever she wasn’t in class. He barely ever heard her violin anymore, which he was slightly grateful for. It had been sounding worse and worse lately.

Ben hadn’t seen Klaus in a few days. Not since their father had left; Ben was worried about him. He had gotten back into alcohol lately, and it was messing him up, he could tell. Ben… couldn’t lose another brother. Not like that. 

When it got too unbearable to be sitting in a silent library or doing homework by himself in his room, Ben joined Luther by Allison’s bedside. He felt awful – he knew nobody but their father blamed him, but he just couldn’t stop blaming himself. He and Luther would sit in companionable but heavy silence, watching Allison’s chest gently rise and fall, holding one of her hands each. She had been put on a respirator. The only times Luther wasn’t there was if he was doing personal training or if they had lessons. 

One of those times, Ben gripped Allison’s hand tightly and wondered what there was left for her when she woke up.

“It’s not much, Ally,” he admitted to her silent form. “Diego’s… he didn’t make it back from that mission. I don’t know how we’ll tell you, it’s horrible,” he said, his voice hitching. “I miss him so much. We all miss him so much. We need you, Allison, I’m not sure how long we can keep going with just the four of us. It’s so, so lonely,” he said.

Allison became Ben’s confidant; she was more comforting to talk to than the two headstones in the courtyard, though he still visited them often. At least with Allison, there was still a spark of hope that kept him going. Their mother said that people in comas sometimes heard outside people speaking to them – and Ben thought Allison must be so afraid, all alone, in pain. He hoped she could hear him. He didn’t want her to be alone. 

“Luther misses you,” he told her, when it was just the two of them. “He needs you. You’ve gotta wake up quick, okay? I’m not sure how long we can keep going without you. We need to be all together through this, okay?” 

Allison remained still, breathing through the respirator softly. Ben gripped her hand tighter.

Sometimes, Ben tried to make good on what he had promised himself in the car before that awful mission – he wanted to rekindle what he and Vanya used to have. It.. was hard, without Five, but Ben tried. It was Vanya that was making it hard.

She… wasn’t doing too well. She floated around the house, more like a ghost than a human, and spent a lot of time sitting outside alone in the courtyard. Ben was sometimes worried for Klaus in this regard – that he would see her one day and think she had followed their brothers.

Ben tried to be there for her. He held her hand under the table at meal times and sat next to her during class time. He sometimes sat with her in the courtyard, if he could bear it. He thought she was grateful, but it was hard to tell. He hadn’t seen her smile in weeks. She seemed to be taking even more of her medication, and it was making her very… not present. She would stare into the distance, and sometimes not even acknowledge Ben was there. He was having difficulty reigniting their friendship, but he would keep trying.

After he came back from having been gone for those few days, Klaus was acting differently as well. He no longer wanted to go and do stupid things with Ben – he spent a lot of time breaking into their father’s liquor cabinet and getting drunk or smoking weed in Diego’s room. He claimed it had the best ventilation, but Ben wasn’t so sure. Ben wanted to keep an eye on him, too – but it was hard, with Klaus’ erratic nature. Sometimes he was there, sometimes he wasn’t, but he was more often than not, high.

Ben liked to update Allison on the rest of their siblings, too. He did this with Luther; both of them also taking it as an opportunity to talk with each other. 

“I’m worried about Klaus,” Ben sighed to Allison’s fragile form. “He’s really not going so well. I’m afraid he’ll start going to things worse than weed soon, and I don’t know how to stop him,” he continued. 

Luther nodded from across her bedside. “Yeah,” he said. “He’s really been drawing back – he hasn’t really been present at group training for a while, and since there are only three of us doing it at the moment, it mostly ends up being me and Ben sparring and Klaus screwing around on the sidelines. We need you here Allison, we’re not a good team without you,” he sighed. “You’ve gotta wake up so we can be the Umbrella Academy again, okay?” 

He pressed his forehead against her cold hand. 

Ben sighed again. “And Vanya,” he said. “She’s so… alone. Even when she’s with me, she’s alone. She won’t talk to anyone, she’s always so – depressed, It’s spreading to everyone else, I think. I know you two used to do some sister things together – you gotta do those with her when you wake up, okay?” 

Allison breathed through the ventilator. Ben stared at her face, and realised he had no idea if she would wake up or not. Their mum hadn’t given them any updates on her condition.

One morning, their mother didn’t come and get them for breakfast. Their father wasn’t back yet, so Ben wasn’t too worried about punishment, but being allowed to sleep in instantly put him on edge. Something was wrong.

Ben stayed in bed for a bit longer, too confused and nervous to get out, when he heard his door softly creak open. It was Mum.

“Sweeite?” She asked softly. Ben shuffled around in his bed, and sat up to face her. She wore a soft, worried frown, and Ben felt a deep, horrible dread creep up on him. “Could you come downstairs and sit with your siblings? I have some news to share with you, all together.”

Ben knew. 

He knew, but he didn’t say anything. He nodded to Mum, and she gave him a soft smile before gently closing the door. He got out of bed silently, got dressed silently, and groomed himself in the bathroom silently. He could already feel the haze creeping back up on his mind.

When he came downstairs, the only one already at the table was Luther. His eyes were red and puffy and his hands were grasped tightly. Ben knew that Luther knew, too.

They both sat in suffocating silence while they waited for Klaus and Vanya. Ben knew Klaus had been at home last night, at least, so their mother would be able to find him in his room, probably. Vanya came down next, in a detached haze. She didn’t acknowledge either of them, just sat at the foot of the table and bowed her head. 

Ben weakly grasped for her hand as he normally did. When he found it, he held it tightly; but it was limp in his grasp. He squeezed it anyway, hoping it was helping in some way.

Their mother came downstairs and patiently waited to the side, like she normally did while they were having breakfast. Ben supposed she had already gone and woken up Klaus, but he didn’t really expect him to come downstairs for a while yet.

Sure enough, they were waiting for ten or so more minutes in a deathly silence before a few crashes were heard coming from above. Klaus stumbled down the stairs, only half dressed, his blazer on over his pyjama top but wearing shoes and socks. 

“Wha-a-attss uppppp my dudes?!” He slurred, staggering over to his spot on the table. Ben grimaced. One glance at Klaus’ eyes, and he could tell that he was already high. It seemed… slightly more severe than weed, however. 

Vanya glanced up at Klaus, before quickly looking back at the table again. Luther shot him a glare with red rimmed eyes, gritting his teeth so strongly they could crack. Ben just felt a deep anger, mixed with a deep disappointment, and it made his stomach squirm. Klaus didn’t notice, and instead started giggling softly at nothing, his eyes darting around the room.

“The-eyre gonneeee, you guyss,” he said loudly. “I can hear my o-own thoughts! Howwww cool ish tha-at, huh?!” He laughed again, the sound feeling thunderous in the silence and atmosphere of the room.

None of them said anything. Their mother took the opportunity to step up.

“Good morning,” she smiled. “I hope you children slept well.”

At Ben and Luther’s weak nodding, she continued, ignoring Klaus’ background slurred laughter. Vanya kept her head down.

“I have some news to share,” she said. “Firstly; your father will be returning tomorrow. He has found what he set out to retrieve, and is incredibly happy with the results.”

That did not bode well. Ben felt sick at the shot of fear that news sent through him. “He will be implementing some rule changes that he expects you all to obey without question. I hope you children are happy with this,” she said, still smiling, her voice as strong as ever. “Secondly,” she said, her voice suddenly turning sombre, and Ben knew. “I regret to inform you that your sister, Allison, passed away last night due to her injuries. I’m sorry.”

Luther burst into tears.

* * *

They held Allison’s funeral later that day. Apparently their father had ordered that they go ahead with it without him there, which Ben was not surprised about.

It was a pitiful sight. It was a clear day, and yet Ben could only hear rushing in his ears over Pogo’s droning voice. Pogo, at least, was much more respectful in his eulogy than their father had been for their brothers, so Ben could appreciate that.

Luther’s crying at Allison’s funeral was different to his crying at Diego’s or Five’s. At theirs, he had cried, but he had been putting up a bit of a strong front for the rest of them at the same time. He had cried solemnly, quietly. 

There was none of that at Allison’s. Luther was letting out horrible, wrenching sobs and wails, nearly drowning out Pogo. He sounded so miserable it was unbearable, and it cut through the fuzz in Ben’s brain just enough to keep him present. Ben stood next to Vanya, again, but she didn’t cry this time. She just stood, her eyes glazed over, staring at the ground vacantly. She hadn’t said anything all day.

The severity of the news had shocked Klaus out of a little bit of his high, but he was still mostly up there. He was relatively silent, but kept swaying on his feet, and it looked like he was going to fall over. Ben didn’t look at him, feeling horribly angry at the disrespect of being high at their sister’s funeral; though he knew it wasn’t Klaus’ fault, just bad timing. Despite knowing this, he still couldn’t prevent the irritated despair he felt.

Ben was exhausted, cried out, dried up. He had done so much crying lately he wasn’t sure if he had any water left in him. He watched Allison’s casket get lowered, exactly thirty centimetres to the right of Diego’s headstone, and he still managed to let out a steady stream of tears. Allison deserved it.  _ Somebody  _ had to be mourning her normally. 

Ben spent the rest of the afternoon in respectful silence for his sister, a crushing guilt pressing down on him.

It was… his fault. He hadn’t come up with a better plan, he hadn’t pulled Allison back from the guard with the bayonet, he hadn’t stopped Diego running straight to his death, he hadn’t stopped Five at the breakfast table and had entertained his complex time travel work. He couldn’t help Vanya’s downward spiral, he couldn’t help Klaus deal with his addictions, he couldn’t comfort Luther’s intense guilt and grief. Their family was broken because of him. 

He wanted to be alone. He felt horrible, thinking of Luther’s complete misery, Klaus’ helplessness to his own mind, Vanya’s disturbing and depressing apathy. He thought maybe they might need company; but he just couldn’t face them. He just couldn’t. He spent the afternoon with his deceased siblings, sitting quietly by their remains, allowing himself to feel all the grief and guilt he had been bottling up. 

That night, Ben dreamt vividly. He dreamt that he and Vanya were happy, sitting together at Griddy’s Donuts, a large plate in front of them piled high with every flavour they could imagine. Five appeared next to them in his familiar blue flash, and the three of them screwed around, eating donuts, making faces, telling stories. Vanya had a massive smile on her face, and it looked foreign. 

One by one, their other siblings joined them. Diego waltzed in, looking gruff, but a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He and Five shot banter at each other, and it devolved into an eating contest which ended in Diego throwing up everywhere. Klaus showed up next, grinning and cracking jokes, making Five exasperated and Diego roll his eyes fondly, while Vanya giggled on the sidelines. Klaus teased Diego about something, and the two ended up rolling on the floor in a play-fight, Klaus shrieking girlishly.

Luther and Allison came in together, looking delighted at having found the rest of their siblings. They both sat down next to where Diego had been sitting, and Allison started chattering at Vanya happily about her most recent teen-magazine interview. Luther took it upon himself to supervise Diego and Klaus’ tomfoolery, watching with a fond smile but a protective gaze. Five turned to Ben, and quickly roped him into a discussion about time travel.

The last time they had all been at Griddy’s together like this was their thirteenth birthday back in October. Watching the scene, Ben felt a horrible longing in his chest.


	5. But nearing means distancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘The Great Carbuncle’ by Sylvia Plath

The next morning, Ben was woken up directly by their mother rather than the usual alarm. A direct parallel to yesterday, he thought morbidly. It was earlier than usual, so he supposed their father wanted them there immediately. Their father wanted them all up, bright and early, to meet him in the foyer.

Still fearing his wrath, Ben got changed quickly and groomed himself as much as he had the energy for, which wasn’t much. He could only bring himself to brush his teeth and flatten his hair a bit, but otherwise looked like he had directly come from his bed. Which was kind of true.

This time, Ben was the only one there when he came staggering down the stairs. He stood where he thought sixth place might be, though he wasn’t sure, as their order was all jumbled and weird now. He was unsure if he was supposed to leave a gap where Five would have stood or stand directly next to Klaus. 

Klaus came next, groaning heavily with a hand flat on his forehead. He fixed Ben’s dilemma for him by standing directly next to him. He looked heavily hungover, yawning and blinking slowly, dark smears under his eyes which could have been bags or eyeliner.

Well, it was better than him being high, Ben supposed. 

Klaus glanced blearily at the far corner of the room, before turning to Ben. 

“Wh-what’s goin’ on, Benny?” He yawned. “Why was Dad away again? I was high as fuck for the past few days, I have no idea what I missed,” 

Ben rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, still slightly mad at Klaus for being high at Allison’s funeral. “Dad went away before that,” he muttered annoyedly. “He didn’t tell us where he went and neither did Pogo or Mum. I’m not sure why he wants us here this early,” he finished. Klaus nodded, yawning again. But Ben wasn’t done.

“You probably don’t remember, but – A-allison didn’t make it,” he said bitterly. “You were high at her funeral, which was really disrespectful. I can’t believe you, Klaus,” he growled, fighting back tears  _ again. _

“...Oh,” said Klaus, a bit uncomfortably. “Well, uh, I think I do remember that. I’m… sorry, for all it’s worth, uh, I guess,” He said, now looking anywhere but at Ben.

Ben looked at Klaus in surprise. 

“I… really wasn’t in a good place,” Klaus said. “Diego… he’s really fucked up, Ben,” he said, now sniffing a bit. “He won’t leave me alone. I don’t want to stare at his half blasted face all day, I just –” 

“I get it,” Ben quickly cut him off. He fought the urge to ask about Diego or Allison’s ghosts – Klaus clearly did not want to talk about it. Or them. He continued, going down the next path he could think of. “I… I’ve been really down lately, too,” he said, biting his lip. “Just… I miss the others. I miss… you, Klaus. I haven’t spoken to you properly in what feels like… ages.”

“Ah…” Said Klaus, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Sorry, Ben. I’ve been kind of everywhere. That mission was fucking awful, huh?”

Ben could only sniff and nod in agreement. Before they could continue, however, Vanya wandered down the stairs and into the room. The two of them were quiet instantly; talking to Vanya was incredibly difficult nowadays, to the point where it almost felt taboo. She had shut everything out and it was Incredibly painful to watch.

She took her place next to Ben, and the three stood in complete silence save for the sound of a ticking clock somewhere, waiting for Luther.

Luther might have been a complete wreck, but he still managed to stumble down the stairs with a few minutes to spare. He looked absolutely dishevelled – he hadn’t bothered to do any usual morning freshening other than changing into his uniform, and it showed. His eyes were still red from crying and lack of sleep, and he had bags that could compete with Klaus’. 

He stood next to Klaus, gave him a glance, and the four of them continued their standing in silence. 

At exactly seven o’clock, the front door opened, and their father stepped through, as intimidating and cold as ever. He stood in front of the four of them stiffly, giving them all once-overs. Ben thought they must look horrible, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Children,” he barked. They all instinctively jerked up a little straighter, even Vanya, still in her stupor. “It has come to my attention that the Umbrella Academy has been lacking in members, due to the deceased status of Number Five and Number Two, and the more recent passing of Number Three,” he said. Ben felt a stab of pain at the reminder, but didn’t let it show. 

“Due to this, I have been spending some time locating other extraordinary children born under the same circumstances as you, and I have succeeded,” he said, completely matter-of-fact.

Ben’s eyes widened and his breath hitched. Other… children? Their father had been out looking for other extraordinary children, in order to – what, replace Five, Diego and Allison? 

Klaus jerked next to him, and Ben knew he was just as shocked. Luther had let out a small gasp and was now staring at their father, his jaw lowered in incomprehension which Ben could relate to. This complete left turn had caught Vanya off guard too, and she seemed to be standing up straighter now while also staring at their father with wide eyes.

“Unfortunately, I was already on my journey back here when I received word of Number Three’s passing,” he continued, oblivious to his children’s shock, “And as such, only managed to gather two other children, not three. I have decided to remain here and oversee training before I set out to find another replacement. So, without further ado, I would like to introduce you to the newest members of the Umbrella Academy; Number Two and Number Five. COME!” He shouted the last part, making all four of them jump.

Out of the front door their father had just come from, came two thirteen-year olds. They both walked confidently to stand next to him; and Ben’s mouth hung open as he took them in.

There was a girl, and a boy, both dressed in the Umbrella Academy uniform. The boy was standing on their father’s left, while the girl stood on the right. The boy had light brown hair and was wearing a feral looking grin, while the girl had chestnut coloured hair tied up at the top of her head in a round bun. She looked stoic and unconcerned by the stares she was receiving. 

“Number Two, Number Five, please introduce yourselves,” their father said.

Ben stared. He was – he was shocked. He was stunned. He was completely and utterly confused – but the one emotion stood out above the rest.

Ben was livid. Ben was furious. Ben was disgusted, utterly and completely, purely enraged at the  _ audacity  _ of their father.

How dare he. How dare he send three of Ben’s siblings, three of  _ his own children,  _ to their deaths, not care, and then replace them without batting an eye.

How  _ dare _ he. 

Ben was filled with a hatred so intense, so clear, that his own brain struggled to comprehend it. Ben rarely felt emotion so intense. He was usually reserved and clear-headed, yet he knew with utmost certainty that he  _ hated  _ their father with a passion he had never felt before. And he hated these new children, too, he hated them. How dare they come and replace Ben’s siblings.

Five, who had loved them so fiercely and deeply that he would do anything for them; his one goal to get them out from under their father. Five who was killed for it.

Diego, who had tried his whole life to protect them and others; from their father, from each other, from danger in general, whose heroic spirit had led him to his demise.

And Allison – who was so confident and kind and determined, who would do anything to save a life on a mission, who cared for them deeply and passionately – was killed for nothing, a life wasted. His sister’s life. Their father had said he was going to replace her, too.

Ben was so shocked that he missed the new children giving out their real names; but he didn’t care at all. He would undoubtedly find them out at some point, and he was definitely not going to ask.

The boy was the new Number Two. Their father let him demonstrate his power on him – something any of them would have been flayed for – and it had a sick and twisted relationship with Diego’s in that it also used knives. Two could project self-inflicted harm onto others; demonstrated by the small cut now across the back of his hand, perfectly replicated on their father’s. 

The girl was the new Number Five. Ben felt an extra wrenching of pain at that; Five hadn’t yet decided on a name before he had been killed, and so he would always be remembered as his number. Ben hated to associate this random girl with something so integral to Five’s memory; so opted to label her as ‘the girl’ in his head, for now. Her power let her transform into a murder of crows; it allowed for fast travel and quick intel gathering, as well as easy, efficient, movement. Just like teleportation.

She demonstrated this without warning, of course; and the foyer was suddenly full of a mass of screeching black birds and swirling loose feathers everywhere before the stoic girl was back, black feathers fluttering silently through the air.

“Numbers Two and Five will be included in all your training from now on,” their father said. “They will overtake certain bedrooms no longer in use, and I expect them to be treated with respect and as siblings and teammates. To adjust to this change, there will be various other new rules implemented…”

Ben tuned out at this point, his complete fury at their father preventing him from thinking that maybe listening to the new rule changes was a good idea. He glanced around at his siblings, to maybe gauge their reactions to this. 

Vanya – Vanya had surprisingly snapped to attention. She seemed quite aware, staring at the new kids with wide eyes. Her bottom lip was trembling, and she looked incredibly close to a breakdown, which was more emotion Ben had seen her exude in… forever. He mentally noted to make sure she was okay later. 

Klaus also looked shocked, having even stopped his usual fidgeting and swaying on the spot. He stood still, his mouth slightly open, glancing between their father and the new children. His hands were clasped behind his back, but his blazer was slightly too small for him and didn’t go all the way down his arm. It was slipping up a bit, and Ben thought he saw – 

No, he was imagining things.

He quickly spared a glance at Luther – Luther was standing up straight and tall, like he always did when faced with their father, though his face was blank, not eager like it might have once been. His exhaustion was obvious on his face in the morning light, and Ben felt a pang of deep pity cut through his passionate hatred at the sight of him. Luther looked awful. 

He was prompted to pay attention again when their Father whacked his cane on the ground once. He shot Ben a brief glare – but was on too much of a roll to call him out, which gave Ben a sense of bitter satisfaction. “As I stated earlier,” their father continued, “I will remain here for the next few weeks to oversee your new training and guide your teamwork, before I go out and select a replacement for Number Three. As an… orientation, if you will, I have arranged for your first mission together to take place on New Year’s Day; which I will unfortunately not be present for, but trust Pogo to oversee. This will give you all a month to become familiar with one another and develop flawless teamwork. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Two and the girl said, smugly and curtly respectively. Klaus and Luther mumbled out their affirmatives, while Ben said his through grit teeth. Vanya was silent. 

“Very well,” their father said, now seeming smug. “Number Two, Number Five, go and stand in your correct numerical positions. I would like to see the Umbrella Academy as it is, wholly,” he said, waving at the general areas they should go.

Two staggered over to stand between Luther and Klaus, Luther stepping aside to make room for him. He shot Luther a nasty grin, who scowled back, but Klaus was just staring at him with wide eyes. Two made a jerking motion in Klaus’ direction suddenly – making Klaus jump back in shock, before Two leaned back into position and smirked at him. Klaus bristled.

The girl, on the other hand, walked calmly and slightly robotically up to Ben and Klaus. There wasn’t a gap for her yet – Ben was getting a ridiculous petty satisfaction from denying her Five’s rightful place. 

“Excuse me,” she said coolly. “That’s my spot.” She gestured in between Klaus and Ben.

Ben felt his hatred intensify, becoming a molten swirl in his chest that he could  _ feel  _ in his blood. Unable to do anything about it, however, he gently nudged Vanya. She jumped a little bit, but gave Ben a frightened look before quickly shuffling aside so Ben could make room for the girl. 

She smoothly slotted herself in, ignoring the venom Ben was shooting her and Klaus’ vague shaking next to her. 

Their father looked down the line, and down at them, a small smirk growing on his face.

“Wonderful,” he said, and Ben heard nothing but the satisfaction of a man who had a collection of valuable weapons. “Number Two, Number Five, you fit in perfectly.”

Vanya, suddenly and without warning, burst into tears.


	6. You Flicker. I cannot touch you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘Poppies in July’ by Sylvia Plath

Ben guided Vanya back up to her room that morning. Their father had yelled at her for her outburst; asking if she had taken her medication, and she had sobbed and stuttered that she had, even the extra doses he had assigned her. Ben was having none of it, and had given their father the most disdainful look he could manage before gently taking her arm and taking her back up the stairs. He would deal with their father later. 

He didn’t want to think about the other kids. He hated them, he wanted them gone. He wanted his siblings back.

“He-e-e-e hat-t-t-tes uuussss,” wailed Vanya, hiccuping and sobbing, as Ben guided her up the stairs. “He h-h-hattes us, he-he r-r-r-repla-aced-d-d F-Five andddd Diegoo-o-o,” she continued, her voice shaking and her words broken. “He hate-ss th-them, he-he hates them, h-h-h-” she cut herself off with a violent hiccup before she began wailing again, a fresh volley of tears streaming down her face.

Ben was silent, carefully pulling her down the hallway towards her room. He opened her door, before gently moving her onto her bed. She sat down, and immediately clutched his blazer, pulling him down to sit next to her.

“T-they-y’re g-g-gonna t-tak-e th-th-thei-ir rooooms,” she sobbed, but was unable to form any more complete sentences over her hyperventilation and intense tears.

“Hey,” Ben said softly, rubbing a hand gently down her back. “Calm down, V. It’s gonna be alright, okay?” He said soothingly, trying to quell his own panic at his sister’s extreme reaction. It was a lie even to his own ears. 

Vanya shook her head violently, clutching even tighter at his blazer. “N-no-o-othings e-ever g-g-g-” she began, but couldn’t finish, quickly dissolving back into hysterics.

Ben was at a loss of what to do to help her – she had been completely emotionless and apathetic since – since Five, he thought. It had started small but had grown exponentially, and before he knew it, it had almost been like Ben had lost Vanya as well as the others; but it was all coming out now, in one extreme breakdown. Ben couldn’t blame her – their father had really outdone himself this time. 

He let himself feel all this loathing swirling around in his soul, knowing it was unhealthy to bottle it up like Vanya had. He kept rubbing a hand soothingly down her back, knowing nothing he said right now would help her. She buried her face into his chest, and sat there – sobbing, soaking his shirt in snot and tears. Ben let her, glad she was letting it all out. 

It took her a little while longer to calm down from the worst of her hysterics, but she remained crying and sobbing softly as she pulled away from him.

“Vanya,” said Ben, an idea quickly forming that he hoped would make her feel better. “Let’s go into Five’s and Diego’s rooms, and take all their stuff – before dad can get rid of it, okay? That way we can keep what was most important to them. How about that?”

Vanya let out a wet sniff, wiping her nose with her sleeve, before nodding. “O-okay,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse and congested. “A-allison, too,” she said. 

“Yeah,” Ben agreed. No way he was letting their father throw out all his siblings’ things. He was going to take and keep as much of it as he could fit in his own room; and as much as could fit in Vanya’s. He had no doubt that Luther and Klaus would want some too. His father didn’t know what they kept in their rooms, and so would never know if anything was taken from them. 

The two of them spent the rest of the morning going through their deceased siblings’ rooms – nobody came looking for them or to get them, and Ben was absolutely fine with that.

Five’s room was the easiest. He had never been one for personalisation; the most his room strayed from the default furniture style they had all started with was a brightly coloured rug their mother had selected for him and a dartboard on the wall which still had a few darts sticking from it. Ben took the dartboard, but left the rug, as that didn’t really seem  _ Five.  _ Five had, however, left a whole ton of loose papers, notebooks, exercise books and textbooks everywhere – a quick flip through the notebooks and Ben could see that these were the ones Five had been using to write his equations in. Ben wasn’t sure  _ which  _ equations – he was always working on so many – but thought he recognised a few of them from Five’s long rants about time travel. An ugly feeling swelled up in his chest at that; he kind of hated those notebooks, but he took them anyway, giving half to Vanya. She sniffed and held them tightly.

The papers were mostly leftover homework – hastily scrawled essays or dot points from their history or english classes. Ben took those too, unashamed to admit he wanted to snoop around his brother’s thought process a little. Vanya had hitched in her misery and had giggled a bit at that, much to Ben’s pride, saying that Five was useless at english and she wanted some of those papers too. 

The exercise books were similarly filled with maths notes, though these ones were relevant to their schooling. Vanya took those ones, claiming he often tutored her using them and wanted to keep them to help her because Five couldn’t anymore. Ben nodded, but didn’t miss the way Vanya lovingly and carefully handled them. The last ones were physics, chemistry and biology notes; all freakishly neatly arranged and ordered, like a perfectly summed textbook, though with the occasional odd quirk, random note or equation scrawled in the margins. Ben and Vanya both agreed to share those – not only because they were a perfect memoir to their brother, but because they would be incredibly useful when it came time to study for a test. 

School notes and a single dartboard seemed too clinical for Ben’s taste, and Vanya agreed. They spent another few minutes gathering the sparse personal belongings they could find – a few well-worn books from his bookshelf, a ragged stuffed dog from the bed, and, after some snooping around, five packets of unopened marshmallows that had been stuffed under a loose floorboard. Vanya had burst into rapid giggles at that, and Ben couldn't help but grin as well. Before they left, Vanya stole Five’s pillow from his bed, but Ben didn’t ask.

They deposited Five’s items between their rooms, then moved on to Diego’s. 

Diego’s room was more personalised than Five’s, but not as extreme as Allison’s or Klaus’. Ben and Vanya didn’t have much trouble gauging possible selections at first glance, and went forward with a few things in mind. Diego had a lot of knives in his room, Ben noted in a mix of longing and amusement. He had an opened set on his desk, an opened set on his bed, and a few closed sets stacked in a pile in the corner. The one on the bed was missing a few, but the one on the desk seemed to be complete, so Ben took that one while Vanya took one from the neat stack. There were, to Ben’s amusement, quite a few framed embroideries from their mother hanging on the walls. They were of a range of different things; a night sky, a cityscape, an umbrella; but the one that stood out the most was the one he had right above his desk. It was a picture of one of their masks with two of Diego’s knives overlapping below it; and underneath was written ‘Diego’. 

Diego had loved their mother, a lot. Ben picked that one out as the one they would keep, and Vanya nodded tearfully, staring at it a bit blankly. Ben quickly made sure they moved on, wanting to keep her stimulated.

Diego had a ton of comic books and action figures strewn about, most of which they took. Their mother had apparently knitted him a quilt, which he had spread over his bed. Vanya clutched at it, looking it over enviously. Ben would have to ask their mother to make one for her, too. The last thing they found that they decided to take was an exercise book that was sitting on his desk – instead of being filled with notes like Five’s (Diego wasn’t one for notes), it contained a few pages of amateur sketches. They were mostly of fight scenes and weapons; Diego had been trying to copy from his comic books. 

Ben felt a pang of pain at this – there was so much he hadn’t known about his brother, and now would never know. 

They left Diego’s room, Vanya wrapped in his quilt, Ben feeling it wasn’t enough; but knowing they couldn’t take too much. There was only so much both of their rooms could hold, after all. 

They deposited Diego’s things back in their own rooms, like they had Five’s, and moved on to Allison’s room.

Ben felt a bit bad about going through Allison’s things without Luther – but going to get Luther would mean probably running into his father or the new kids, and that was completely out of the question. Ben mentally noted to make sure he picked out some of her things specifically for Luther, and to maybe suggest the idea of going in there to him so he could go and do it himself. 

He quickly found there was no need for that, however – it was apparent by Allison’s missing slew of stuffed animals and the walls bare of a few posters that someone had already been here. Probably Luther.

With that concern put to rest, Ben and Vanya were able to go through and take her things without worrying.

The first thing Vanya grabbed was a bright, pink feather boa from around her mirror. Vanya entwined it around her neck and smiled, saying, “For Klaus,” and Ben was just glad that something was getting his sister to smile again. They went through Allison’s closet, finding a whole row of non-uniform clothes, much to their surprise. They shuffled through it, and Vanya picked up a few shirts and dresses that might even be her size, taking them and holding onto them tightly. Ben looked at the higher shelves, finding a dusty scrapbook and a cardboard box filled with old artwork from when they were much younger; both of which he took. He looked through the scrapbook and found various collages made up of pictures from Allison’s scattered photoshoots – as well as pictures of all of them, from magazines, newspapers, even personal ones from Mum – which had Vanya in them as well. Inside the cover was written ‘Future autobiography photos’. 

Ben was immensely happy for his sister’s ambitious nature at that moment. 

They moved on to the rest of her room, of which there was plenty. Vanya went over to Allison’s vanity, taking a few scrunchies from a pile and a few bottles of nail polish. Ben, meanwhile, looked through her bookshelf, picking the books which seemed the most well-worn and a few trinkets that had been displayed there. Allison had somehow managed to obtain a ceramic figurine of a cat sitting on a chair; Ben had no idea how she had gotten that, but he took it. Vanya ended up taking a few photos that had been displayed around the room in frames and one or two stuffed animals that Luther had left. They took down a few of the remaining posters; one of Allison’s favourite boy band, and one which was an advertisement she had starred in briefly. They left the room with a lot more than they had from either of their brothers – Allison simply owned more stuff, and a lot of things Vanya had taken were clothes.

Ben and Vanya deposited her things, too, and sat together in Ben’s room, surrounded by their siblings’ possessions. Ben felt just a little bit better about those rooms being taken over, now – they couldn’t do anything about the rooms being lost, but they could do something about all the things inside the rooms. They spent the rest of the afternoon arranging them carefully between the two of them.

Once they were finished, Vanya sat and cried into Ben’s shoulder again, though this time in a much more quiet and reserved manner. Ben joined her, letting himself feel the pain at having his siblings things, but not having his siblings.

He hoped he would be able to avoid those new kids as much as possible.

* * *

Ben found, to his sick delight, that his other siblings hated the new children too. Vanya had made it apparent that first day, but Luther and Klaus made their hatred more apparent during their increased training sessions. Luther would give them a complete silent treatment and cold shoulder, which was as close to expressing hatred he would dare get around their father, and Klaus made it blatantly clear he didn’t care about their matches. This was perceived by both of them as unashamed disrespect, which was exactly correct.

Each of them were required to spar with either Two or the girl at least fourteen times across their regular training rounds. Ben disliked both of them equally. Two was slightly insane; he took an immense amount of pleasure in using his power on them, which none of them appreciated, and the girl was the opposite. She reacted too little; her crows were annoying and hard to fight against, and she barely said anything, ever. Ben hated them.

Their father watched the whole time, barking out instructions that they had to obey or else. The main purpose of these few weeks before the New Year’s mission was to accustom the two new kids to using their powers in a combat scenario, and it showed. They were pitted against each other in all kinds of creative scenarios; ranging from intense chases throughout the house, to straight sparring, to fighting with weapons. It left all of them exhausted and miserable, and Ben hated it. 

The two kids didn’t seem to mind, oddly enough. Ben wondered where their father had found them.

Possibly the only benefit to this was that their personal training time had been reduced by a large amount. Ben was glad; the Horror had been giving him grief lately, and he was worried he would one day let it out and not manage to reel it back in. Klaus was also immensely happy with this, which he announced loudly to Ben often. Over the weeks of training, however, he was acting stranger and stranger, and Ben wasn’t sure why.

He had started disappearing at random intervals quite often again. Ben knew he left the house, but he didn’t know where he went. He sometimes missed training because of it, and whenever he did, their father would take him somewhere and Ben wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day. Klaus was always drunk the next morning, and always performed sloppily in training as a result, which just perpetuated the feedback loop of punishment and self-destruction. Ben once again felt helpless, and aspired to stay out of it.

Luther had been… terrible. Something in him seemed to have been lost even since that mission, and he had taken on perpetual red eyes and an uncharacteristic silence. He still obeyed their father, but there was no enthusiasm as there once was. He spent their rare free time sitting outside in front of their siblings’ graves, just as Ben and Vanya did sometimes, his head bowed and his fists clenched. Whenever he saw their new teammates at mealtimes or in between training, his face would twist painfully before carefully going blank. Ben knew that Luther must be blaming himself just as much as Ben was – he was their leader, after all, and the sight of them must remind him of his failures more than it would Ben or Klaus.

Ben and Luther didn’t speak often, as Ben spent as much time with Vanya as he possibly could to try and keep her calm. He wasn’t sure it was working; after they had raided their siblings’ rooms, she seemed to relapse back into apathy. She spent most of her time, more often than not, curled up on her bed hugging Five’s pillow, and Ben felt awkward just sitting at her bedside. He stayed anyway, unable to come up with any words for her.

He was worried about her when he couldn’t be there, which was most of the time. His schedule nowadays consisted of mostly training or schooling and hardly a minute to breathe. Their father was brutal, and so were the two new kids.

In between training rounds, when they were having a break, Ben often copped an earful from Klaus about how awful they were to work with, and Ben agreed. Neither Two or the girl ever joined them on breaks; Ben wasn’t sure where they went, and he didn’t care, either. He felt nothing but resentment and disdain at the prospect of them ruining these breaks, too.

“I hate them,” whined Klaus one time between training, though Ben could tell he was serious. “They find this fun. They find this whole thing fun – it’s horrible, Benny, I wish they would just go away,” he finished, moaning. 

“Yeah,” agreed Ben. The Horror didn’t like them, either; they weren't the siblings it was used to, and so far Ben had only been able to train it with Luther and Klaus. Not that he liked doing that, either. “I wish things were back how they were a month ago,” he said wistfully, resting his chin in his hand and staring blankly. He felt like a void; full of all these emotions, yet stuck exactly as he was before.

“If only,” scoffed Klaus. He took off his training jacket to get changed into his regular uniform, and Ben’s eye caught something on his arm. A series of long bruises and dark veins, stretching from the inside of his elbow further down his arm. Ben was taken aback – he blinked in shock, but Klaus had already turned around.

“I’m so sick of training, Ben,” continued Klaus, oblivious to Ben’s discovery. “I wanna hang with you instead, and get as far away from  _ those two _ as possible, maaaannnn…” 

Ben continued to blink in shock. He… couldn’t have just seen what he thought he had seen.

Ben was going to check Klaus’ room when he got an opportunity to – and he hoped desperately he would not find what he thought he would. 

Before Ben could... maybe say something about it, Luther entered the training room, looking sullen and depressed.

“What’s the matter, Lu lu?” Asked Klaus, spinning around to face him. Ben quickly dispelled any thought of addressing Klaus’ arms. 

Luther glanced at both of them, before turning his gaze back to the floor. He trudged over to the wooden bench and sat down heavily on it, leaning his head against the wall.

“It’s those two new kids,” said Luther quietly. “I… I can’t believe Dad would do that. They just… I just can’t believe it. I’m – I’m really struggling to work with them. I know it’s what d-dad would want, but –”

“You don’t have to pretend, Luttheeerrr,” said Klaus, moving over to lean against the wall next to Luther. “We both hate Dad too, you know,” he said. “And we hate those kids. They suck, they don’t compare to Five or Diego at all. Or even Allison,” he said, “Who Dad will get a replacement for next – c’mon man, how can you still like Dad after all this? He – He didn’t give a shit about our dead siblings, he doesn’t give a shit about us, he –”

“I,” Luther cut him off, turning his pained gaze to stare at him. “I know, Klaus, I…”

“It’s alright,” intercepted Ben softly. Luther and Klaus both turned to him in surprise. “We – you especially, Luther, but I think we’d always kind of thought he was doing whatever he did for our benefit. But he’s not,” he said. “He doesn’t love us. He’s never loved us; we’re just a bunch of weapons to him. Those other kids are fine with that – but I’m not. And I don’t think you are either, Luther,” said Ben, his voice quiet but powerful. 

Luther stared at him with deep purple bags and red eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m not. I… wish it hadn’t taken this to see that,” he said quietly.

They sat in silence until they had to go back to training.


	7. Dawn snuffs out star’s spent wick,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the poem ‘Epitaph for Fire and Flower’ by Sylvia Plath

Their father had emptied and removed all the furniture from Five’s and Diego’s rooms barely two days after Ben and Vanya had raided them, so Ben was proud of his timing. The two new kids moved in shortly after, leaving the things they had taken as the only remaining tangible memoirs of their brothers. 

The close proximity of their rooms made it hard to avoid the new children, unfortunately, so Ben was forced to bear passing them both in the hallways and waiting in line for the bathroom with Two. He was thankful that Vanya never had to wait in line with the girl; he was sure it would have been awful for her.

Mealtimes were stoic and silent. Ben grit his way through them, suppressing his wicked hatred and anger for fear of being punished. He let himself express it in private – ranting to his siblings, or he took it out on the two in training. The latter always felt satisfying. 

After a few tense weeks of training with barely any breaks, their father left. He once again didn’t tell any of them where he was going – even though it was obviously to collect Allison’s replacement – but he had left Pogo with instructions for their training. In a rare display of sympathy, Pogo had made it optional for them – he argued that with only a few days left until the New Year’s mission, they needed to be as well rested as possible. Ben wasn’t going to argue with him. The two freaks had opted to continue to train, of course, and Ben was going to take as much time away from them as he could get.

Christmas had been a few days earlier. They had never celebrated Christmas before – their father thought it was a pointless waste of time – but this year, Ben, Luther, Klaus and Vanya had shared a toast to their deceased siblings. Klaus had stolen a bottle of their father’s best rum, poured each of them a generous amount, and they had sat together by their gravestones. It was the first time all four of them had been together of their own fruition, Ben realised, since that mission. It was snowing; they had all worn lots of layers and brought out a large umbrella they could all fit under, it’s blackness nearly invisible in the suffocating darkness.

Klaus held up his glass, the brown liquid sloshing within. “To our siblings! To us!” He exclaimed, before moving his glass down in order to drink. Ben quickly touched his wrist, stopping him from continuing, and Klaus looked up at him in confusion.

Luther and Vanya were watching them, unsure of if they were supposed to drink or not. Vanya seemed to be less distant tonight, with all of them there together, but was still quiet and gave off an air of depression. “Wait,” Ben said quickly. “We should do this properly, you know. I haven’t – been here with you guys in… ages,” he said, letting go of Klaus’ wrist. 

The others all exchanged glances. It was true; they all saw the opportunity to make the most of it and they wouldn’t waste it. “Alright Benny,” said Klaus, leaning back. “Let’s see what you’ve got-!”

Ben looked around at his family. Luther was slumped on the bench, staring at the furthest right headstone, but he gave Ben a side glance and lopsided smile of encouragement. Vanya was staring at the ground, the rum cradled in her shaking hands, trying to hold back tears. Klaus was watching Ben expectantly, sloshing his rum around in his glass.

Ben took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. He held up his glass. “To Five; who just wanted to get us out of here; To Diego, who just wanted to save as many people as he could; To Allison, who was doing her best when she had no choice; To – To us, for us to stick together and keep their memories alive; because Dad refuses to.”

He quickly lifted his glass and downed the rum as if it were a shot. He heard Vanya let out a small sob, before she gingerly took a sip, and Luther gave a strained half smile before doing the same, drinking steadily. Klaus let out a soft, wistful laugh, and raised the glass to his own lips. 

Ben blinked back tears as he treasured the moment with what was left of his family, the rum setting his insides on fire in a pleasant way.

That night, after they had all spent some more time in companionable silence, they went to bed sleepy and giddy from the alcohol. Klaus had had more than any of them, and had ended up slightly drunk, slurring his words and giggling occasionally, so they decided to quit early. Ben was prepared to have a good sleep for once; but was jolted from his vague stupor when he heard some telltale noises coming from Klaus’ room. It sounded like… it sounded like the night he had seen Five.

Ben stumbled out of bed without thinking, immediately making his way over to his brother’s room. The alcohol was stopping him from thinking clearly, but his brother was in distress and he wasn’t just about to  _ leave  _ him. 

Ben opened the door to Klaus’ room as quietly as he could, and was faced with his brother’s tearful form curled up on the bed with his hands over his ears. A wave of concern rolled through him, and he made his way over to sit next to him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, hoping he was being quiet.

“I-i-it’s the gh-ghostss, Benny,” sobbed Klaus drunkedly. “T-they woon’t leav-ve me aloooonee,” he said. “They’re on-nly gone wh-when I get dru-unk or highh, and hate it, and theyy ha-ate me,” he continued, tears rolling down his face. “I can’t st-a-and it Ben – I alwa- always see those guys, b-but not Five, and they won’t  _ leave me alone,”  _ he blubbered.

Ben was at a loss for words, his alcohol numbed brain unable to come up with anything comforting. Klaus sat up and leaned into his side, and Ben put an arm around his shoulder, unable to think of anything else.

“It’s th-the wooorstt, Benny,” continued Klaus, oblivious to his brother’s dilemma. “Allison leave-s these trails o-of blood everywh-where, and whenever she trie-esss to open her m-mouth, more blood just comes out,” he hiccupped. “I hate it. I can’t stop seeing it, everywhhere, and I would r-rather just n-not see her at a-all, you know?” He rambled wetly, sniffing and sobbing.

“Shh,” was all Ben could say, pulling his brother closer. His mind conjured up an image; Allison stumbling back, blood dripping from her throat, staining her fingertips – Ben was frozen, unable to do anything – 

Klaus sobbed again, jolting Ben out of his horrible thoughts. He continued rambling, and Ben scrambled for something else to focus on – the sound of his voice. “S-same with Die-ego” Klaus sniffed. “He j-just makes the-se garbled noises, I can’t understand him, I can  _ see the inside o-of his headddd,”  _ he wailed, burying his head into Ben’s pyjama shirt to muffle it. “I want them to g-g-go awwayyy, I banished F-Five, why can’t I do it for th-them?!” 

Ben shut his eyes tightly. His mind bombarded him with images – Diego lying in the rubble, his head smashed in, Five, his body dissolving into nothingness, screaming as he was ripped apart in the fabric of reality.

He would do anything to see them again. He felt a wave of envy and resentment towards Klaus – out of all of them, he was the one who actually could; and yet, here he was wishing he couldn’t.

He forced himself to calm down and think rationally, not blame his brother. Even through the haze of alcohol, he knew he wouldn’t want to see phantoms of Diego and Allison’s corpses following him around.

Ben spent the rest of the night in Klaus’ room, comforting his brother as he cried himself hoarse. Klaus fell asleep from exhaustion, already sleepy from the alcohol, leaning against Ben.

Their father had been away by then, so Ben wasn’t worried about punishment.

* * *

The following days were awkward and hard. Seeing Two and the girl around the house became physically painful – whenever he saw then, Ben felt hurt stabbing into his chest and twisting, cutting his heart. The Horror would squirm, and he would feel sick.

Klaus’ breakdown that night had worried him a lot – after it, Ben had barely seen him at all. Of course, Klaus had opted out of training as well, and decided to spend his new free time doing who knows what, skipping their lessons and often their meals. He sometimes wouldn’t even return for dinner, and Ben might not see him until the next morning or even later.

Ben’s worry was growing; what he had thought he had seen on Klaus’ arms was grating at the back of his mind, but he needed an opportunity to investigate when he knew that he wouldn’t get caught.

That such opportunity came on New Year’s Eve; the night before their first mission with Two and the girl. Ben was dreading it; dreading going on another mission, dreading working with these kids who were not his siblings, dreading having to unleash the Horror. He hated it, he hated them, he hated everything. 

That night, Pogo had left the house in order to make preparations for the mission, meaning nobody was manning the cameras and Ben could go snooping as much as he wanted. He knew nobody checked security footage unless it was happening in real time, so he wasn’t worried about being caught after it had happened.

Luther was sitting in Allison’s room, reading – he had been doing that lately, wanting to get as much time in as possible before it got taken over by the next child, and Ben knew he wouldn’t come out for a while. He didn’t know what Vanya was doing, but he knew she barely ever left her room, so he wasn’t worried about getting caught by her, either. The two new kids liked to spend their free time sparring or exploring the mansion, getting familiar with it. He knew they wouldn’t disturb the rest of them. 

Ben opened the door to Klaus’ room, just like he had on Christmas night and when he had found him sobbing on the floor over Five. The room was eerie and silent without Klaus in it – every shadow seemed like a monster, looming and creaking in the corner of his eyes.

He was quick; he overturned every pillow, opened every draw, upturned Klaus’s bedding, a low fear eating at him. He didn’t find anything – but Ben knew his brother was clever. He wouldn’t be so obvious in his hiding places. He extended his search to places Klaus would think were genius – inside stuffed animals, inside the various non-uniform clothing items he found, under the bed. But it was only when he was standing in the middle of the room, wracking his brain for more possible spots, that he found it.

He stepped forward, about to investigate around the window, when the floorboard his foot landed on gave a deep creak. He recognised that sound – it had been the same one that the floorboard Five hid his marshmallows under made when pressed down on.

Ben dropped to his knees and fumbled around, prying up the end of the floorboard after finding a groove on one of the edges.

Ben was met with a face full of his worst fear; underneath the floorboard was a small stash of needles, both used and unused. He picked one up – it still had little clear droplets lining the inside.

He felt a vivid panic swallow him whole. Klaus – when was the last time he had seen Klaus? Where was he? Where was he going when he wasn’t in the house? 

“LUTHER!!!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, his heart racing. “LUTHER-!” 

He heard thundering, running footsteps, and then Luther was standing in the doorway. “Ben?!” He asked in panic, catching sight of him. “What –” 

Ben held up the needle. “Where’s Klaus?!” He asked, breathing heavily. In, out. He couldn’t hyperventilate now.

Luther eyed the needle, and the colour drained from his face. “I don’t know,” he said curtly. “We have to find him.”

Ben nodded. They quickly each ran to their rooms to put on a pair of shoes and a jacket over their pyjama tops, before meeting each other back in the hall.

“I’m going to kill him,” said Ben, his voice wavering with fear. “He – I thought he was just doing weed, he –”

“I know,” said Luther gravely. “There’s no time for that right now. We have to make sure he’s okay,”

Ben swallowed, then nodded.

They left the house, not telling anyone what they were doing, and ran to search the dark streets of the city for their brother.

They didn’t want to split up, both of them unwilling to lose sight of the other. The city was quite large, and their young voices didn’t carry very far, cracking in fear as they shouted. Ben worried Klaus wouldn’t hear them over the bustle the city held on New Year’s Eve.

“KLAUS!” Ben yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. He and Luther had made their way into the heart of the city, which was lively despite the late hour. New Year’s Eve was a busy night; there were lights on in all the houses, loud music blasting from bars and clubs, and people gathered everywhere on the street to watch fireworks that would happen in the distance.

“Hey kid,” he heard a voice nearby say tiredly. Ben whipped around to find an older man, dressed in dark clothes, leaning against the side of an alleyway. Ben quickly beckoned to Luther, who had been looking around a restaurant, and he looked over, then went to stand by Ben’s side. Both of them stood at the defensive; unsure about interacting with people outside their house.

“...What?” Ben asked in frustration. He didn’t have time for some random guy to distract him. Klaus could be anywhere; it was cold and wet, and there were so many people out tonight, who knew what one of them could do – 

“You know Klaus?” The man asked, looking them both over. Luther nodded. “He’s our brother,” he said, his voice steady and strong despite the fear that must be rushing through him. “We can’t find him. He needs to be home soon, or our Dad –”

“Yeah, I got that,” said the man, shifting so he was no longer leaning against the wall. He crouched to their height, and lowered his hood. “I have some buddies who sell that kid shit all the time, but they won’t listen to me when I say they should stop. He’s just a kid,” said the man. Ben felt tears welling up at the reminder of what Klaus was doing to himself.

“D-do you know where he is?” he asked, and to his dismay, his voice broke. Stupid, stupid. He couldn’t afford to show the enemy weakness.

“I know some places he hangs out,” the man sighed. “That kid likes to hang out in dodgy alleyways while he rides his high. C’mon, I’ll take you around.” 

Ben and Luther exchanged glances. Neither of them trusted this man, but they didn’t have any other leads. “Okay,” said Luther, grabbing a gentle hold of Ben’s hand. “Thank you very much.”

The man didn’t reply, only motioned for them to follow him. 

Ben and Luther followed the man around a complex back-alley tour of the city, Ben desperately trying to remember their route but failing in his hazed mind. They stopped at several secluded alleyways, away from the core New Year’s festivities, but there was no sign of Klaus. Luther kept a gentle hold on Ben’s hand the whole time, and he was grateful for the reminder that he wasn’t alone. 

It was five minutes to midnight when they reached a dimly lit, stingy, rancid little passage between a shady club and a cheap tobacco store. The bass from the club was loud, pounding into Ben’s brain. A few people were hanging around, drunk, laughing in large groups, sitting on roofs. It was nearly 2003.

“Let’s try this one, huh?” said the man. His voice wasn’t soft or suited for comfort, but it was sympathetic. Ben only nodded tearfully, and the man stepped in first. Ben and Luther both knew not to let strangers go after them.

“...oh no,” he heard the man whisper as they stepped into the alleyway.

The man was crouched over something that Ben couldn’t make out over his large frame. Luther gently guided him over, also having heard.

“What – “ he said, sounding worried. They reached the man.

He was leaning over a dark, badly lit form. Someone was lying in the middle of the alleyway, on their side, still and silent.

Luther let out a cry of shock – and Ben knew.

“K-klaus!” Luther exclaimed. He let go of Ben’s hand, and quickly knelt down in front of their brother.

Ben stood in shock, watching as Luther turned Klaus onto his back. Klaus’ eyes were open, and his pupils were blown. They had been watching something in the shadowy depths of the alleyway. There was no movement – not even the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“KLAUS!” Luther shouted, giving him a shake. The man let out a broken sigh, standing up. “I’ll call someone,” he muttered, stepping outside and leaving Luther and Ben alone.

“Klaus,” Luther sobbed again, now pumping down steadily on his chest, before pinching his nose and breathing into his mouth. Ben heard something crack as he pressed down hard again.

Their brother remained still. Ben dropped out of his shock for long enough to collapse on his knees next to Luther and fumble for Klaus’ wrist. Outside the alley, people began to count down to the new year.

Nothing. 

“K-lauusss,” wailed Luther in despair, pumping desperately.

Fireworks blasted in the sky, bathing the alleyway into colourful flashing reds and pinks and setting off an explosion in Ben’s head.

The bright coloured sparkles reflected in the watery stillness of Klaus’ eyes, but they saw nothing.


	8. A far sea moves in my ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘Morning Song’ by Sylvia Plath

Luther was a complete wreck. The man had come back, saying softly that he had called an ambulance, and the paramedics had arrived a few minutes later.

It was too late, they said. He took way more than his body could handle, they said. Klaus had heavily overdosed on heroin, and had died high as a kite lying on his side in a nowhere alleyway. Ben and Luther went home alone that night, riding in the ambulance, Luther sobbing heavily while Ben was once again frozen in wide-eyed, blank shock.

The rest of the night was a blur. Ben remembered arriving back at the mansion, and someone asking to speak with their parents. He remembered Luther shouting for their mother, the only adult around the house, and he remembered somebody taking him to his room. The rest of the night was lost to him.

Pogo was back the next morning, having been called back early to sort out all the relevant affairs since their mother only had limited ability to do so in her digital brain. Ben was woken up by the mission alarm with a start, not remembering having gone to sleep.

He automatically jumped up to get ready, his mind racing. What the hell had happened last night – 

He stopped short when he remembered, then looked up at the mission alarm in confusion. A heavy depression settled over his soul as he finished getting dressed into pre-mission sweats slowly, wondering why it was still blaring as if nothing had happened.

Ben stumbled downstairs for breakfast in a haze, wanting to know what was going on, wanting to see Luther, wanting to see Vanya. He did NOT want to see the other two children; but of course, it was both of them and Pogo who were waiting at the table when he got there. 

“...ah,” said Pogo, his voice grave. “Master Ben,” he said. “Thank you for coming down this morning. Do you know if Master Luther or Miss Vanya are awake yet?” 

Ben only shook his head silently, sitting down in his spot across from the girl. She glanced at him, but otherwise ignored him. Two was playing with a knife over the top of the table next to her. 

“I see,” said Pogo. I must break the unfortunate news to Miss Vanya; and inform Master Luther of the continuing status of your mission,” he said.

Ben stared at him.

“I wish to explain it only once,” said Pogo. “I’m sorry, my dear boy, but I will give you the details when he comes down.”

Ben struggled to comprehend Pogo’s words. They were still – going on the mission? After what had happened last night? But…

It didn’t take long for Luther to come down, thankfully. The mission alarm was loud, and didn’t stop wailing unless they were all present. Ben stared at Klaus’ empty seat in despair – All of them present no longer included him.

Ben wanted to cry. 

Luther looked completely bedraggled after coming down the stairs. It was a repeat of Allison all over again; though this time worse, as their numbers were getting painfully low, and with Klaus – they had found him. They had seen him dead. They had failed to help him.

Luther forwent his normal seat, to Ben’s mild surprise, and sat in Klaus’ seat; next to Ben. Luther sent a pleading look to Ben – and Ben snatched his hand under the table. They both turned to face Pogo. 

“Good morning, my dear boy,” said Pogo by way of greeting Luther. “I… appreciate you coming down. Now –”

“What about Vanya?” Cut off Luther, his voice hoarse and quiet.

“Ah,” said Pogo. “Miss Vanya is aware she is not supposed to make herself known when there is a mission pending. I will inform her of the situation once you all have left.”

Luther’s eyes widened at this. “We’re – we’re still doing the mission?” he asked. “Even after –”

“Yes, if you would let me finish, Master Luther,” said Pogo, giving Luther a soft but pointed look. Luther was taken aback, and shrunk down in his chair. Ben squeezed his hand. 

Pogo turned to Two and the girl, both of whom had been watching the exchange in curiosity. “I have some unfortunate news,” he sighed, his face once again turning grave. “Last night, Master Klaus unfortunately passed away. He will not be joining us on this mission, or on any future missions.”

Both children looked mildly surprised at this, obviously not having expected such severe news. The girl recovered quickly, her face smoothing over to the familiar blankness, while Two paused for a second, before continuing to fiddle with his knife, his smirk slightly less pronounced.

Pogo continued. “Due to the circumstances, I would normally cancel any missions that we would have in the coming days. However, I have spoken to Master Hargreeves, and he deems this one too important to forego – he reasons it is integral for team building and for our new students to get used to missions beginning anew. As such, we will be continuing as normal.”

A black hole of devastation and dismay crashed over Ben’s soul. He really – wasn’t up to a mission. He didn’t want to leave the house; he didn’t want to leave his sister. He wanted to stay inside and spend the day mourning Klaus like he deserved. He wanted to spend time with his only two siblings left; he wanted to treasure it. He wanted to go through Klaus’ room with them, pick out his favourite things to keep. He wanted to sit by his siblings’ graves and cry over them, and tell them about Klaus.

Ben felt heat grow behind his eyes and his throat go tight. He –  _ really  _ – did not want to go on this mission. He hated their Dad for making them go anyway. He hated Pogo for not arguing to support them. He hated these two new children, so unaffected by the death of his brother. 

He missed his siblings. Ben blinked back tears, and felt a squeeze on his hand. He shot a grateful glance at Luther, who was looking just about the same way Ben felt. Pogo continued.

“Your father will be returning in two days, as he has found a suitable new member of the team. In light of the new circumstances, he wishes to drop them off quickly and then leave again in due course in order to find another new member. Master Klaus will be buried today in the courtyard, while you are away on your mission. Miss Vanya will accompany me during the burial. I apologise that you are unable to be there to pay your respects; but I will endeavour to send him off with a worthy ceremony and with dignity.”

Ben wasn’t able to continue holding back his tears; he felt them fall, hot and wet, down his cheeks and onto the table. 

They weren’t even allowed to attend his funeral.

* * *

Getting ready for the mission was heavy and silent. Pogo had explained it to them; it was very similar to their first ever mission, back when they were eleven years old. Ben had both fond and not-so-fond memories of that mission; memories of them all preparing and training together, then laughing about it afterwards. Memories of going to Griddy’s in their first stunt of rebelliousness, feeling the need to celebrate. Memories of unleashing the Horror in the bank vault, the first time he had killed another human being.

This one was similar in that it was also a robbery, though this time at a museum. Apparently, their father had access to criminal intel, and instead of alerting the authorities or museum curators that a robbery would be taking place, he had slotted it in as the perfect mission for them. It was typical of their father, and Ben didn’t have any energy left to be mad at him. 

Once, he might have rebelled – the absolute injustice of the situation was horrifying. But Ben just – couldn’t. He was too exhausted. Their father did not tolerate disobedience. The only thing he could do was pray it was over as fast as possible so maybe he could be left in peace when they got back. If they were fast about it, maybe he could – convince Pogo to wait to bury Klaus. Or something. 

He tried to imagine it; an empty courtyard, only Vanya stood in front of the coffin while Pogo droned in a mournful tone. It would be cold, and lonely. It hurt to imagine not being there. It hurt to imagine Luther not being there, it hurt to imagine Vanya just on her own. It hurt that he was so helpless.

Luther and Ben got changed into their mission gear together, the room suffocating in it’s silence. Ben was used to missions upon missions in a row getting ready in this room with his brothers; laughing with them, talking with them, bantering with them. Now it was just him and Luther. He wasn’t sure where Two got ready, but he was glad it wasn’t here. 

The silence was broken by a quiet sniffle. Ben turned to face Luther – he was already changed into his suit, and was just sitting on the wooden bench, slumped against the wall. Tears were streaming down his face in a steady rivulet, and the sight just made Ben feel worse. Quickly finishing pulling his arm through his suit and zipping it up, he went to sit by his brother.

“I couldn’t do anything,” said Luther quietly after a few seconds. “Klaus was lying there, d-dead, and I couldn’t do anything.” 

Ben's heart jumped to his throat. He could see it in his mind's eye – Luther’s futile efforts to pull Klaus back into life; the flashing brightness of the fireworks bathing the alleyway in fire. Being able to do – nothing. Being as helpful as a statue.

“I know,” whispered Ben, his heart filling with a deep and bitter guilt and shame. “But you tried. I was just – frozen. I couldn’t move, you – you got up, and you moved to help him. I just… didn’t,” he finished, his voice cracking. 

Luther gently snaked his arm around Ben’s shoulders, pulling him to his side. Luther was always gentle; he had always been aware of his own strength and aware of the fragility of his siblings compared to him. Luther was big, and warm, and Ben felt some horrible sense of finality. This was it; this was Ben’s only brother left. Ben moved closer, and rested his head on Luther’s broad shoulder. 

“It’s not your fault,” whispered Luther.

“It’s not yours either,” whispered Ben back. 

Ben was crying now, softly and quietly, the same as Luther. They had to take care of Vanya; they were all she had left. Ben felt worse thinking about his sister – he wasn’t sure she could take this. Blow after blow after blow. Ben was shocked  _ he _ was even still going.

“I miss them,” said Luther, his voice wavering. “All of them. I wish I got more time with them – I wish I got to say goodbye. I didn’t… get to say goodbye.”

Ben could only let out a squeak, unable to form words. He wished it too. He wished it more than anything else. 

They sat there until Pogo came to get them for the mission.


	9. I ride earth’s burning carrousel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘On the Plethora of Dryads’ by Sylvia Plath

The ride to the mission had an odd air. Luther was obviously distraught, shaking and struggling to hold in tears the entire time, while Ben was back to drifting along blankly, his brain simply unable to process his emotions at that moment. In a direct contrast, Two seemed excited and the girl seemed incredibly professional and prepared, sitting up in her seat stoically. 

He hated it, but Ben thought that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for Luther to lead them on this mission. Ben could just sense in his heart that it wouldn’t end well – and Luther deserved a break. They didn’t know the two new kids that well, either, so that would inevitably hinder their teamwork and Luther’s ability to lead them properly. 

The ride took nowhere near as long as their last mission – Ben was endlessly thankful for that, as he was afraid memories would resurface if he was put in a similar enough scenario. It was dead silent the whole time, not even Two making any of his usual random noises. That was a blessing in more than one way – Klaus had often made random noises in silence, too, and thinking about that gave Ben such an empty feeling he was afraid he’d just… disappear. They only had to endure the awkward and suffocating air for a short ten or so minutes before the car pulled to a stop. 

Pogo got out first, of course. Ben only spared him a lethargic glance as they exited the car in single file, weird and distorted numerical order – he simply didn’t have the energy for rage right now. Pogo would be driving back straight after they set off, anyway. Back to the mansion. To bury Klaus.

He would be back later to pick them up.

“Alright, children,” he said, as they all lined up outside of the museum in a row. One, replacement Two, replacement Five, Six. Stupid. 

The museum alarm blared, drilling into Ben’s ears.

“The thieves are already in the building, and have targeted several priceless paintings to extract,” said Pogo, not quite exuding the same authority as their father. “Number One,” he turned to Luther, who seemed terribly unfocused – nothing like he usually was on missions. Pogo pulled out a bit of paper from his waistcoat; no doubt a script to peddle to them from their father. “I have obtained a map of the building from the security department for you to study, as well as insider information on the planned activities of the thieves. You will study these documents and devise a plan.”

Ben couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Luther. He… did not look thrilled at this. Quite the opposite, actually. He looked...afraid, not anything Ben had ever seen on his brother during a mission before.

Ben honestly couldn’t blame him. If Ben could hardly think straight right now – he was intimidated at the prospect of what Luther must be feeling. He was shocked that Pogo was still considering him fit to lead.

Pogo continued, nonplussed. “This should serve as a wonderful team building exercise and opportunity for you all to adjust to one another’s fighting styles in a field environment. The objective is to detain all the thieves, and recover the artworks with minimal damages. Upon completion, you will be required to wait for me to return, in this exact spot, while the police deal with the criminals. Are these instructions clear?”

Ben absently nodded along with the others, still staring at Luther. His brother’s face was twisted in a grimace that was somehow both fearful and upset, making him look incredibly lost. His hands shook as Pogo handed him the map and other documents, and Two and the girl were quick to gather around him in order to get a look themselves.

“Excellent,” said Pogo, still clinical – their father would have been smug, and Ben appreciated the difference. He began making his way back over to the car. “In that case, I will meet back here with you in a few hours. Use your time wisely; and,” he said, pausing, the driver’s door half open. “I wish you all luck.”

Without thinking about it, Ben found himself stepping forward quickly to grab hold of Pogo’s sleeve before he could close the door. Pogo looked up at him questioningly, and Ben scrambled for words.

“U-um,” he began, suddenly finding himself at a loss. Pogo’s face turned a little softer.

“What is it, dear boy?” he asked gently.

Ben took a breath. “Can you…” he began, “ ...do you think you could w-wait until we get back before you…” he tried, unable to finish his sentence. His mouth was dry and his thoughts were gone. 

Pogo’s face dawned in understanding. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I truly wish I could say yes to that, my boy, but it was very clear that your father wanted Master Klaus to be buried as quickly as possible. He does not believe emotional stress is good for your teamwork, and so has endeavoured to separate you from it as much as possible.” 

That was… ridiculous. Ben struggled to comprehend his words.

How could he not realise that not being there would cause more emotional stress than being there would? How could he not see that this would be plaguing both Ben’s and Luther’s minds this whole time – just – just –

Ben could only stare in stunned disbelief. Pogo gave him a pitying look. “Once again, I am sorry,” he said.

He returned to the car, and Ben could do nothing but watch as it drove away back to their home, where their sister was waiting to bury their brother.

He felt… nothing. A silent, deadly, abyssal numbness had descended onto his soul. Was this how Vanya had been feeling for the majority of the past month or two? 

With no other choice, Ben staggered over to join Luther and the others in observing the floor plans of the museum. 

“U-um,” Luther was saying, his voice and his hands shaking. “I-I-I-I – m-maybe w-w-e shhhh-”

“Let me look,” the girl cut him off, taking the papers out from Luther’s hands. She held them out, perfectly steady. “Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully. She took a step forward, leaving Luther grasping blankly at nothingness.

“Let me see, bird girl,” snapped Two irritably. He stepped up to observe the documents with her, and Ben was left with a shaking Luther. He seemed to want to go and join the other two, but kept pulling back, shifting around on his feet nervously. His face was trembling.

“...A-are you okay?” Ben whispered, placing a hand on Luther’s shoulder. Luther looked down at him – his face wavering. Ben heard some loud whispering behind them; it sounded like Two and the girl were getting into some sort of argument over the documents.

“I don’t think so,” Luther said back, lowly. “I… don’t think I can do this, I – I wanna go home,” he said, his voice breaking on the last syllable. 

“Yeah, me too,” Ben said. Home to Klaus and Vanya.

They were interrupted by the shuffling of papers, then a long shadow coming to hang over them. Ben looked up; it was the girl. She was clutching the papers in her fist, tightly, and she was staring at Ben and Luther expectantly. Two was fuming next to her, his arms crossed.

“Alright,” she said, looking both Ben and Luther up and down. “I think it’s reasonable for me to take charge of this mission, is it not?”

Ben felt an ugly tangle of emotions as Luther nodded next to him with minimal hesitation. He _did not_ want to be led by this girl who had replaced his brother – but he couldn’t deny that Luther probably wasn’t the best choice right now. Without much choice, he shoved the feeling deep down and prepared himself mentally to have to obey whatever plan this girl came up with. 

If he wanted to get home faster, following a set plan was significantly less exhausting than rebelling and not listening to her, which he might have done if he had any energy to be hateful right now. He just wanted to go home as soon as possible.

“Good, “ she said. “Now, let’s get started. The museum has four floors, and the art being targeted is located on the third one.” She opened up the floor plan, pointing out the exact spots for them to see. Next, she pulled out the document which had the information their father had stolen from the criminals. She held that one up for them too, moving closer so they could read it easier. “Looking at the outlined path the thieves will take, it would be sensible for us to first take out the guards they’ve stationed on each floor, then detain the thieves who are in the process of stealing the artwork. There will be several of them at once; two of us will focus on protecting and taking back the artwork, while the other two will immobilise and detain the thieves. Is this acceptable?”

She looked to Luther. “Sounds – good,” he managed to struggle out. She nodded.

“In that case, I would consider it wise for me and Number Two to be paired, and Number One and Number Six.” she shot a look at Ben and Luther. Ben felt a jolt at that; mentioning Number Two so casually, it was almost as if Diego was still there. He shoved it down quickly. “I do not think the two of you are yet accustomed enough to me or Number Two as teammates to work with either of us efficiently. Is this also acceptable?”

“Yes – thank you,” said Luther, easier this time. “I’m sorry I'm… not leading like I'm supposed to. I – I just –” 

“Yes, well,” said the girl in a clipped manner. “I figured it was in all of our best interests to complete this mission as fast as possible. I am not trained to be a leader, but…” She looked over Luther again, something changing in her stoic expression. “You do not need more… mental strain at the moment.” 

Luther’s face twisted into a wobbly smile. “Th… thank you,” he said.

Ben stared at her. The tangled ball of ugly emotions he had shoved down slowly rose up again; he hated her. He hated that she was being reasonable – she was supposed to be evil, so he could hate her without feeling even a little bit bad about it. He hated that she was taking charge so well, and he hated that she was taking the burden of leadership off of Luther – but he _didn’t_ hate it that much. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with this – relief he was beginning to feel. 

He hated her for making him feel this way about her. It was so much simpler when he was just – angry.

“Alright,” she continued. Two was rocking back and forth on his feet, still looking mad. Ben could at least – still hate _him_. With a deep, intense passion. 

“In that case, Number Two and I will utilise our powersets to detain the thieves. I am well suited for distraction and entrapment, and Number Two is well suited to cause damage to the perpetrators. Number One, your strength will be useful in transporting the stolen artworks, and Number Six… your power would not be particularly useful in either scenario. Too much risk of property damage. Is this acceptable?”

Ben knew she was right. In fact, Ben would even say he was thankful for her saying it out loud; letting the Horror out on this mission would not end well for anybody. Not even them. Especially not them. 

But he just… didn’t want to listen to anything she said. She and Two were here – his brothers were not. He could not… forgive her for that. Ever. 

He didn’t dare say anything, though. She was taking charge, which he could admit he wouldn’t be able to do. He supposed… she must want this mission to be over, as well.

Luther took in a deep breath next to him, trying to pull himself together at least a little bit. “Yes,” he said, this time his voice only shaking a little bit. “Me and… Six… will make sure the artwork is returned, undamaged.”

* * *

The first part of the plan went smoothly. Two was very good at taking down the guards; he barely even used his power, which Ben was glad about. It was a very disturbing power to see in action. They climbed the floors at a somewhat slow but steady pace – Ben took out a few, but it was mostly Two doing it all. The girl had transformed into her murder of crows in order to scout the area, so they knew where the thieves were and what they were doing. 

Ben stuck by Luther for all of the first part, not wanting to be alone, and sure that Luther didn’t want to be either. They took down several guards together, each keeping an eye on one another. Neither of them were at their best. His mind kept wandering depressedly back to the mansion – was Klaus in the ground yet? Was Vanya okay? Ben was glad that these thieves seemed to be amateurs – he wasn’t sure he would be able to concentrate properly if they weren’t. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he came across any guards holding rifles with bayonets. 

They eventually reached the third floor, and the girl beckoned for them to join her so they could go over the plan again. Two put his arm around her shoulder in the beginning of a team huddle, and Ben and Luther reluctantly joined. 

“I’ve scouted the area with my crows, and can confirm that there are numerous thieves inside attempting to secure several large and small artworks,” she whispered. They were huddled right outside the exit to one of the stairwells that would take them to the thieves, so they hadn’t been seen just yet. “I am unaware if this organisation has any remote communication methods; I am not sure if they are prepared for us or not. We must take them by surprise in order to take them out as quickly as possible. Any contributions?”

“Can we kill them?” asked Two, sounding eager. The girl sighed. “...if you must, I suppose,” she said. “Though don’t make it gory. We don’t want to get any blood on the artworks.”

Ben rolled his eyes, wanting to get this over with as quick as possible. “...So, you guys get them away from the art, while we take it downstairs to keep it safe while there are still thieves roaming around?” He asked after a split second of silence. 

“Correct,” said the girl. “You two will deposit the artwork to the police Commissioner, then return up here to collect more. The artwork will need maintenance once this is over, so it’s easier to get it down there now than leave it up there and risk further damage. Is this acceptable?”

Ben nodded. Next to him, Luther also nodded, but he seemed – unsure. “Will we-” he began, then stopped shortly. The girl glanced at him. “Never mind,” he said, bowing his head.

“Very well,” she said. “Are we prepared?” at their nods, she continued. “I will go in first, once we open the door. My crows will hopefully confuse them and allow you to attack undetected, Number Two,” she said, turning to him. He nodded frantically, grinning in anticipation. “Then Number One and Number Six will be able to secure the first artwork. Let’s go-!”

At her command, the huddle broke up. Luther and Ben pressed themselves against the wall directly to the left of the door, so once it opened they would be hidden. The girl stepped up and opened it; and then there was suddenly a dark mass in the middle of the room, freakishly quiet for how a group of birds should realistically be. Two ran in, letting out a war cry, before the birds split up and started zooming through the doorway. There were a few surprised shouts from within the room, then Luther and Ben were left alone.

Ben peeked his head around the corner to take stock of what was happening. Two was viciously attacking a man carrying a small painting, taking care not to harm the painting itself. It didn’t take too long for the man to drop it, and Ben saw his chance. Two dived at him, and Ben ran out to save the painting from it’s fate on the dirty floor.

The rest of the men were heavily distracted by the massive murder of crows flying about everywhere that kept swooping and diving at their heads. As Ben scrambled to take hold of the small painting, he saw Luther run into the fray towards someone else who was carrying something slightly larger and heavier. 

Ben secured his hold on his own painting and ran after him, not wanting to let Luther out of his sight. 

Luther had also secured his own artwork, the man who was carrying it being attacked by a series of crows pecking and swooping. They exchanged glances, then ran together back towards the staircase.

They both made it down without any issues, running out to hand them off to the frenzied police Commissioner and a museum curator who looked close to a heart attack. Ben turned to run back up and get more, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

It was the police Commissioner, the same one who had been present on their last mission. Ben suddenly felt his nerves return, the apathy dissipating, as if he was back at that last mission. 

“You boys okay?” the man asked in concern. Ben stared at him, and slowly nodded.

“Yes-” he choked out. He was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming urge to tell this man about Klaus – Klaus had been one of the people he had helped that day, after all. Before he could do anything – he felt a tug on his arm, and he was being pulled back along by Luther. 

“Yes, thank you sir,” said Luther quickly, dragging Ben towards the museum. Ben didn’t catch his reply. 

“No time for that, we can talk to him after,” panted Luther, letting go of Ben’s arm and letting him run beside him. Ben nodded. The faster they got this done, the quicker they could go home.

The room was in complete chaos once they returned. There were still crows flying about everywhere, but they were now screeching as opposed to the silence of before. Some were unconscious, scattered randomly around, and Ben absently wondered how that would translate to the girl’s human form. Two was running around erratically, a knife clutched in his fist, stabbing it into himself occasionally and letting out shouts of laughter. There were unconscious perps lying on the floor, artwork strewn around, and still quite a few left who were fighting off birds or chasing Two around.

Luther and Ben exchanged glances. They each picked another few artworks to save, and made their way back down.

They repeated this a few more times, successfully delivering artwork each time. Every time they came back up, the room was in a further state of disarray. By the time they had delivered four more rounds of artworks, Two had at some point collapsed from exhaustion against a wall, bleeding from multiple self-inflicted injuries. The girl had finally reverted back to a human, now attacking the remaining thieves normally. She was locked in what seemed to be an intense battle with a group of three, all of whom were kicking out at her and swinging fists at her head. She was barely dodging, getting in the occasional hit on them.

Ben looked around quickly, wanting to grab more art before he could get involved, only to spy two unoccupied thieves running up to Two’s vulnerable form, looking prepared to kick him to death.

Ben… supposed he should intervene. 

He looked around to try and gauge what Luther was doing. He had come up before Ben, and was running over to help the girl with her predicament, though he was still quite close by. Ben would be on his own with this one.

He closed his eyes briefly. If he wanted to help properly – he shoved aside all thoughts of home. All thoughts of Klaus, all thoughts of Vanya. That was the most efficient thing to do.

The perps had by now reached Two, and were indeed starting to kick him – Ben winced as he saw one’s foot deliberately hit a stab wound, while the other one went for his head. Before he could second-guess himself, Ben looked around for a weapon. There was a fairly large chunk of rubble nearby – that’d do. 

Ben ran to grab the rubble, then sprinted over behind the closest of the two thieves attacking Two. He jumped up and smashed the rubble over his head, causing him to let out a very loud curse and scream of pain.

The other perp’s attention was instantly on him, eyes widening as he watched his friend collapse with a stream of curses and moans, clutching his head. His face twisted in rage, and he looked back at Ben – before doing a double take.

“I _knew_ I saw Umbrella Academy kids around here!” He exclaimed, turning away from Two. Ben grimaced, readying himself in a fighting stance. “So, which one are you, huh? I didn’t see you come in, are you the teleporting one?”

Ben grit his teeth at the mention of Five, a brief stab of pain piercing his chest. He had to knock this guy out quick. 

“No? How about the knife one, you kinda-” Ben cut him off before he could finish, jumping at him, aiming to smash his face with the chunk of rubble.

They collided, and both went down hard – Ben ending up on top of the thief. Ben lifted his arms up to get a good heavy shot in, but the thief threw him off and he went sprawling to the side. He let go of the rubble at the impact, and heard it crack and break beside him. He would have to resort to martial arts. 

The perp was already diving back at him, snarling, but Ben had his arms up in protection. The two scuffled on the ground for a bit – Ben was hyper-aware of the fight Luther and the girl were having that was very close by near his head. It sounded like they were nearly done, and Ben hoped they would finish quickly so they could help him.

“Little-ow! fucker-!” The thief growled in between hits that Ben got in. He needed to hit a pressure point on this guy. While the perp had a crushing grip on his arm, trying to twist it behind his back, Ben readied himself before letting out a grunt and hitting the perp’s head with his own as hard as he could.

“AAH-!” the thief yelled in pain, instantly letting go of Ben in order to clutch his head. He fell backwards, and Ben scrambled to stand up, instantly going to press his boot on the man’s throat. The world lurched as his head smarted, but he managed to stay upright. 

He was suddenly aware that the sounds of Luther and the girl’s fight had stopped. He glanced over, to find the girl sprawled out on the ground along with the three who had been attacking her, but Luther standing upright and panting. His fists and suit were bloody, but he seemed okay. 

Something Ben had been holding on to in his chest relaxed. Luther was okay.

He sent Luther a quick relieved smile – to receive one back, just as relieved.

Now, if he could just _knock this guy out –_

Ben turned back to the man he was holding by his throat, to find him wheezing and scrabbling at Ben’s steel-toed boot. Ben increased the pressure, wanting this guy to just lose consciousness already.

His mind didn’t register the sound of the other guy who had been attacking Two standing up. His mind didn’t register that he had forgotten to make sure he was actually knocked out. His mind didn’t register the telltale click of a gun as the safety was disabled.

He did hear a sudden, panicked shout from Luther – “ _NO!!!” –_ before there were three loud shots and a heavy weight rammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Ben shouted in surprise, his head hitting the floor, and he saw stars. He blinked for a second, dazed, the world splitting and spinning as his head throbbed in pain. He lay there, moaning, eyes screwing shut, wondering what the hell had just happened. 

His mind scrambled for a hold on the situation. Mission – Thieves – Fight – he needed to – did he just hear gunshots?

His eyes snapped open, and pushing the intense pain in his head aside as much as he could, he struggled to get up, but there was a heavy weight on top of him. He could feel the perp’s throat still under his legs – he seemed to have stopped moving, so that was no longer a concern. But this weight on top of him –

He managed to pull himself out, his mind whirling in panic. He was sure that had just been gunshots, but he didn’t feel shot. He scrabbled at the ground, managing to heavily stumble to his feet.

What on earth had hit him so hard? He looked down to where he had just been laying – 

Luther’s power had always made him the fastest out of all of them in terms of running speed. He could sometimes, if he had enough energy and startup, run alongside a bicycle and keep up relatively well. 

Luther’s power made him strong, and fast, and durable. He could withstand much more beating than any of the rest of them had ever been able to. He could survive harsher hits. He would stand up when the rest of them would have been incapacitated. 

But one thing Luther’s power couldn’t save him from – 

“NO!” Ben screamed. All he could see was red; smeared across the floor, smeared across a shiny black suit, smeared across a shock of blond hair, smeared across a slack face. 

Ben jumped to Luther’s side. “No,” he breathed. He shook Luther’s shoulder. No response. “NO,” he yelled again. He put his hand under Luther’s nose. No breath. “No, no no no no no no no nononononONONONONO-”

One thing Luther’s power couldn’t save him from, was three successive headshots at a relatively close range. 

No.

No.

No.

Ben couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. No. No. No. Not Luther. _Not again._

“LUTHER-!” He screamed, shaking his brother. “LUTHER!”

Through his absolute panic, he heard the low sound of laughter. He whipped around to face it. It was the thief he had hit with the rubble earlier, standing up, holding a smoking gun, chuckling.

Chuckling

While Luther

Was dead

On the ground.

.

.

.


	10. The snow drops its pieces of darkness,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the poem ‘The Munich Mannequins’ by Sylvia Plath

The mission ended with all the art being successfully secured and all the thieves being detained.

Two of the thieves were dead on the scene. One of them had a crushed larynx, and the other was barely a pulpy splatter and smear on the wall, a spray of red mist in the air. The two members of the academy who had been knocked out woke up to Ben wailing and crying, holding Luther’s corpse close. They couldn’t get him to move, and they were forced to finish securing the art on their own.

Pogo returned to an inconsolable Ben, still not having moved from where Luther was laying. He was unable to do anything with gentle goading, and they were unable to coax him into coming into the car to go back to the mansion. He wouldn’t let go of Luther; and they ended up having to tranquillise him temporarily to extract the body from his iron grip and move them both to the car. 

He spent the ride to the mansion forcefully asleep, silent as the corpse in the back. 

Ben awoke in the infirmary.

He… didn’t quite remember what had happened. It was pitch black; as Ben’s eyes adjusted, he could only just make out the outlines of furniture and equipment surrounding him. 

He felt nothing, floaty. His whole body was numb, except for a small part of his arm, which was icy cold. He struggled to sit up, and it pulled – it must be an IV. He must be on morphine.

Ben sat back in his infirmary bed, his eyes wide and pupils blown. Something… was wrong.

His drug-addled and exhausted brain struggled for the details, but – 

He remembered. 

The previous evening. The mission. The outcome of the mission. 

He sat up, staring straight ahead with dead eyes. If someone were to look into them, they would find nothing.

He had to get up. He couldn’t stand being confined to this hospital bed. 

Ben fumbled with his arm, until his numb fingers caught on the IV line. He pulled, feeling the needle extract itself from his arm. He gave himself a few seconds – blinking slowly as he willed his head to clear. 

After a few more seconds, he pulled off his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

Leaving the infirmary in the pitch darkness of the night was difficult, made even more so by his fog-addled brain. He tripped on things he didn’t know were there, stumbling until he ended up falling against the doorway. He kept going – the morphine in his system made the pain nonexistent. 

He staggered out into the hallway, his hand feeling along the wall for the light switch. When he found it, he had to blink rapidly for his eyes to adjust to the sudden bright light. 

He continued on down the hallway, towards the kitchen. 

Nobody woke up at the sudden bright light. Nobody came out to check on him. Nobody came out to ask what he was doing. Ben shuffled into the kitchen, alone. He turned on the light and glanced at the analogue clock in the corner – 2:32am. 

His eyes absently wandered over to the bench, and he stared at it, before turning to the pantry. He made his way over there, and got out a loaf of the shitty white bread that their mother always saved for when they needed a treat or some comfort food. 

He put it on the bench, then got out a plate. He went back to the pantry, and got out the single jar of peanut butter they always kept in there, as well as a stale, half-full packet of marshmallows. Next, he moved on to the fridge, getting out the butter as well.

_“I need as much energy as possible, Ben. No, I don’t care if you think it’s stupid, having butter as well as peanut butter is valuable calories!”_

His eyes moved towards the kitchen drawers, needing a knife in order to spread the toppings over the bread. After a moment of consideration, he turned towards the bottom of the sink instead. Slowly getting onto his knees, he opened the small compartment door. He was greeted with voidish blackness, the dim light of the kitchen not quite reaching this secluded corner. He reached in, and felt around until his hand hit a flat, hard case, behind the dishwashing tablets. 

He pulled it out and set it on the bench. The latches were tight with rust, but he managed to open them with a bit of prying. The case was full of knives, and Ben looked them over carefully, before selecting the bluntest one he could find and putting it aside.

_“M-mum can’t p-protect herself if the house is a-a-attacked, Ben – I’ve g-gotta be able to find s-some knives at a moment's notice, wherever I am! A-and you know Mum sp-spends heaps of time in the k-kitchen!”_

He used the knife to scrape off a slab of butter, and after placing a slice on the plate, spread it slowly over the shitty white bread. He managed not to tear it, and moved on to the peanut butter. He used the same knife, dipping it in the jar, and spreading that slowly over the bread as well. 

He finished it off by sprinkling some marshmallows over the top, uneven and haphazard. He spread a bit more butter over a second piece of bread, to help it stick, and gently pressed it on top of the marshmallows to make a sandwich.

He stared at it. His mouth felt dry just thinking about trying to eat it. 

Without thinking much about it, he turned to the cupboard above the sink. Opening it, he rummaged around, pulling out several mugs until he found one that was large and well worn, the inside brown with use. 

_“C’mon Ben, a fan gave it to me, isn’t it adorable?! Just look at the caption: ‘Did you hear the rumour about the peanut butter? Never mind, I don’t want to spread it!’ It’s so lame, but I love it so much, and look at it, it’s so big!”_

He set the mug next to the plate, and stared at it. 

It was too late at night for coffee or tea, not that their father stored any of that. He felt like… something stronger. 

He staggered out of the kitchen, feeling his way through the dark hallway that connected to the main sitting room where their father kept his liquor cabinet. Once he reached it, he didn’t dare turn on the light – it would wake up the whole house. 

He felt around, squinting. The bottle he wanted was engraved with a distinct pattern, so he would know when he had it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he probably should not be mixing alcohol with the morphine in his system. 

But – He didn’t care.

He found what he wanted, and pulled it out. It was a very fancy bottle, the type only the highest quality drinks came in, and it was half-full of a golden liquid that sloshed around like ink in the darkness.

_“Nothing beats whiskey on the rocks, Benny boy, trust me – if you don’t have a mixer or blender, this is definitely the best thing to have on its own, haha! And Dad’s such a rich bastard, he has all the best brands, of course-!”_

He clutched the bottle tightly in one hand, manoeuvring as slowly as he could back towards the kitchen, not wanting to trip and smash it. He found himself back there easily enough, the dim light from the kitchen attracting him like a moth. He wandered over to the lonely sandwich, standing before it and the empty mug.

Screwing open the top of the bottle with a weak hand, he sloshed some into the mug until it was full. He screwed the lid back on, and set it aside to put away – or hide – later.

Ben stared blankly at his sandwich and mug of whiskey. The ridiculousness of it hit him suddenly, and he let out a snort of laughter that was quickly smoothed over by a crushing burst of grief. He went back to staring blankly, before his gaze wandered over to the window.

He took a hold of the plate with the sandwich in one hand, and his mug of whiskey in the other. He stood up, moving back towards the sitting room where the door to the courtyard was. He carefully elbowed it open, avoiding spilling any whiskey, and was hit with an intense wave of frigid air, snowflakes fluttering through the open doorway. 

He shivered. He could feel that through the morphine. He looked around, stalling before having to step out into the freezing snow and icy ground.

His eye caught an upside-down hook shape balanced a little bit sadly in the corner by the door. The pale hook disappeared into a dark mass that Ben couldn’t make out properly in the lack of light, but he knew what it was. He went over to numbly take a hold of it. 

_“Yes, I know it’s my umbrella from my room, Ben, but as the leader, I feel I can give mine up. I don’t really need it anyway, I can endure the cold and wet for much longer than all of you; I think it’ll get used much more sitting here, honestly. You know how often Klaus loses his-!”_

The umbrella in one hand, he went to take the plate in the other. He looked around briefly – there were a pair of gumboots resting on the other end of the door, which he slowly staggered over to and slipped his feet into. Not the warmest, but would protect him from the wet.

He stepped through the open door and pushed up the umbrella. Its pitch blackness compared to the dim moonlit courtyard, the snow covering it a soft, unearthly white, made it feel like he was standing under a black hole. 

He quietly wandered over to the bench he had sat on many times before, the gumboots crunching in the snow. He placed the sandwich down, snowflakes already beginning to flutter onto it, then went back inside to get the mug. 

Taking it from where he had placed it down, he went back outside, and sat down heavily on the bench. He held the umbrella above him, protecting him from the gentle snowfall. He shivered.

Four gravestones, all covered in snow and lined up neatly, stared back at him. They were all exactly thirty centimetres apart from one another. Ben took a hold of the mug, and took a deep sip. 

It burned on its way down, warming him up from the inside. He cradled it in his hands, staring at the gravestones. His eyes wandered over to the one the furthest to the right; Klaus.

He hadn’t been there today. Vanya and Pogo stood out here alone, lowering the casket into the fresh hole. You wouldn’t be able to tell it was new; the snow had already covered the fresh dirt, making it look as old as the others. 

He stared at them. The dates engraved in them were barely weeks apart – November to December. And soon enough – his eyes slid to the empty space next to Klaus’ headstone. January. 

He took another deep swig of whiskey.

When he placed the mug down, he felt – drowsy. Hazy. Giggly – distant. It felt strange, having alcohol rushing through his blood but not being able to feel anything. He was sure his feet must be freezing off – but they just felt numb in the gumboots.

“H-heyyy, guys,” he slurred, his teeth chattering in the cold. He picked up the sandwich to take a bite. “I’m so sor-r-y I missed you today, K-k-klaus, we h-hadd to still do that mmmmission, remember t-t-that?” He chewed slowly, not tasting it. It was sticky and gelatinous, sticking to his gums. He licked at them absently.

“L-l-l-utherr’ll be with you guysss sssoon, don’t w-worry,” he said. “And me an’ Vanya’re alone now. Thhh-thanks-s for that, you g-guys,” he finished, raising the mug again. He took another drink, this time taking a bite straight after. A marshmallow fell out and landed in the snow. 

“I h-hate you,” he said to the gravestones, feeling his eyes fill with tears. It suddenly got very hard to breathe, the alcohol burning and peanut butter sticking. “I h-h-hhhate youuu,” he said again, this time in a sob. He felt scathing hot tears run down his numb face. “I-I-I-I-I –” 

He cut himself off with a hiccup. He put the plate in his lap and the mug to the side, before burying his face in his hands, the umbrella nestled against his chest and arm so it remained upright. “III hhhaaaaattttteeeeeeee youuuu,” he wailed, his hands muffling the mournful noise. “How c-c-c-ould you do th-this to us, h-h-h-” he sobbed, then immediately felt a crushing guilt descend upon him.

“I-I’m sorry, He hiccuped, looking back up at them. His hands were wet with tears that had turned icy as soon as they hit the freezing air. “I-I-I-I didn’tt m-mean tha-that, I-I know you didn’t w-want to d-die,” he said, his voice cracking. He hiccuped again.

“I didn’t w-want you to d-die either,” he whispered. His breath curled up into the night in a thick white fog, dissipating into nothingness. He let out another sob. 

His hands shaking, he picked up the sandwich again to take another bite. The crusts had gone a bit soggy, a combination of the snow landing on it and the tears that had dripped down from Ben’s hands. He ate it anyway, enjoying feeling _something_ other than numb and cold, even if it was disgusting stickiness on his gums. 

“I’m sorry-y-y,” he said again. “I l-love you guys. I love you. I l-love you.” he repeated, his voice shaky and hoarse. “I mi-miss you all s-s-so much,” he sobbed. 

He stayed there, tears rolling down his cheeks, until the skin on his fingers got hard and white enough to match the snow surrounding him. At that point, he decided he didn’t want frostbite. He finished off the last of the whiskey, enjoying the brief warmness it provided him with, before struggling back to the kitchen. 

He closed the umbrella, shaking it out briefly, before placing it back in its spot. Upon entering the kitchen, he put the empty plate and mug down on the bench, but didn’t bother to put them away. He only took a second to hide the bottle of whiskey under the sink near Diego’s knives, not wanting to go all the way back to the sitting room, before he kicked off the gumboots and staggered back to the infirmary. 

Once he was back, snuggled under the loose, thin covers, he dissolved into harsh, intense sobs, his chest heaving, wracking his whole body. He only allowed himself quiet wails, not wanting to wake anyone up. He fell back asleep crying heavily, his throat tight and his eyes sore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably doesn't need to be said, but do not ever mix alcohol with morphine. Very bad idea. Ben is setting a bad example.


	11. Everything glittered like blank paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘Suicide off Egg Rock’ by Sylvia Plath

Ben woke up the next morning, unable to open his eyes properly. They had been crusted shut with sleep and salt. His head throbbed with a deep, scathing ache, and his entire body creaked and felt sore. He let out a moan, and something shuffled next to him.

“Good morning, dear,” came the soothing voice of his mother. Still unable to open his eyes, he turned his head towards the sound of her voice. 

“You gave us quite the scare,” she said softly. Ben felt her lifting up his arm, holding his chin and moving his face, checking him over. “Do you remember what happened?”

Ben could only nod numbly. His head pounded, and he felt sick and awful.

“That’s good to hear,” she muttered. “It seems as if there’s no long term brain damage. Your head took quite the beating – we had to do some tests on you when you got back.” 

Ben appreciated being told they had done who knew what to him while he was asleep. She continued. “You seem to have taken out your IV in the night. Would you like something to help with the pain?”

Ben nodded again, the small movement sending needles of agony straight through his head. He was sore, he ached, and he wanted to go back to sleep. He felt his mother move his arm again, re-inserting the IV. It didn’t take long for the strange cold sensation to start up, and soon, the pain coursing his body ebbed away to a dull ache. 

He began to feel drowsy again. His mother began gently stroking his hair, and he relaxed into the sensation.

“We’re having a ceremony for your brother in the courtyard in a few hours,” she told him softly. “If you feel up to it, I’ll wake you up so you can go, okay?” 

Ben felt a jolt of scathing nerves shoot through him. “Yes please,” he managed to whisper, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Alright,” she said, carding her fingers through his fringe lightly. It had been growing longer, nearly long enough to cover his left eye, having neglected to take care of his own hygiene lately. “Take it easy until then, okay? I’ll be here if you need me,” 

Ben could barely nod, letting himself drift back into the peaceful blackness. 

He woke up again to a patch of sunlight shining directly into his eyes, assaulting him through his eyelids. This time he heard some rattling nearby him, his mother bustling about. She stopped immediately, no doubt sensing he was awake. 

He heard her approach. 

“How are you feeling, darling?” she asked. “Better,” Ben managed to croak out, even if it was a bit of a lie. He didn’t feel better, he just felt nothing. 

“That's wonderful!” she said, a smile in her voice. “Do you think you could open your eyes for me, honey?”

Ben took a deep breath, then pulled lightly with his eyelids. They opened a crack, still sticking slightly, and he could barely see his mother leaning over him in concern through them. 

She gave him a smile. “Good job, sweetheart,” she said. “Do you think you can walk? We’ll be meeting in the courtyard in an hour, and we need to make sure you can manage it, okay?”

Ben nodded again, and tried to sit up.

The next hour or so was spent with Ben slowly getting used to walking properly again, the percentage of stumbles and swaying decreasing as he kept trying. Soon enough, the hour had passed, and his mother informed him that they would be moving to the courtyard now. 

He left his head bowed as they made their way through the kitchen and into the sitting room, not wanting to see if the plate from last night was still out. When they arrived in the courtyard, the only one there was Vanya. She was sitting on the stone bench by the gravestones, gazing at the new hole that had been dug exactly thirty centimetres to the right of Klaus’. 

Ben quickly stepped up to go and greet her. The last time he had seen her, he realised, they had had two other siblings who were alive. 

Their mother stood to the side, waiting, while Ben sat himself down next to Vanya. She turned to face him.

“B-ben,” she choked out.

“Hi, Vanya,” he breathed. Suddenly, she threw her arms around his shoulders – It was so out of rhythm for what he was expecting that he took a second to react. Once he did though, he wormed his arms around her waist and held on tightly.

“I-I-I-’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered into his ear, her voice shaking. 

“M...Me too,” he said, taken aback. He tightened his hold on her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there… yesterday.”

She didn’t answer. 

She didn’t pull away either, and Ben held her in his arms as the other two children eventually made their way into the courtyard. It was an overcast day, the clouds thick and heavy, and the air was freezing through Ben’s coat. The warmth of Vanya pressed against him helped a little bit – she was wearing a thick coat that Ben remembered her taking from Allison’s room.

Pogo came out a few minutes later, and Vanya and Ben moved to the centre of the courtyard so they could get started. Ben snaked his arm over Vanya’s shoulder and pulled her close to his side. She leaned against him, putting her arm around his waist. They huddled together. 

Ben stared at the other two children as Pogo began to speak. The girl seemed respectfully sombre, but – it at least seemed genuine. Two was uncharacteristically not smiling, seeming awkward and watching the ground silently. He was fiddling with something in his pocket – another knife.

Ben felt his burning, molten, swirling hatred reignite at the sight of them, cutting through his grief and slowness from the drugs in his system. What the hell were they doing here, when it should have been his real siblings. His real siblings should be here, standing with him in the courtyard – not even. They should be here, not standing in the courtyard, since Luther would also be there, not being buried surrounded by these strangers. 

Vanya let out a short sob, and Ben pulled her closer. He watched with tired, blank eyes as Luther’s casket got lowered into the freshly dug hole. Of course, their father had instructed them to complete the ceremony while he was still away, _again_ – why would he want to be present for the funeral of one of his remaining children? It was too much effort, obviously.

The loathing burned low in Ben’s chest. 

The ceremony was completed without much fanfare. Pogo finished the eulogy, praising Luther’s leadership and strong spirit, his soft heart and fierce love for all of them. By the end, Ben was gritting his teeth and holding back tears again, trying to be strong for Vanya. She… needed him to be. She had turned her face into Ben’s coat, and was crying quietly. The girl’s expression hadn’t changed, remaining mournful and regretful, while Two was shifting around, looking anywhere but the coffin, obviously wanting to get away. 

They both left after a few shovelfuls of dirt were piled into the hole, and Ben just – 

Hated them, with all his heart. He hated them. 

He and Vanya stayed while the hole was filled, just as they had for all the others, and, Ben assumed, Vanya had for Klaus. By the end, he had let a few tears slip out, the sensation of burning heat rolling down his cheeks reminding him of his little stint that early morning.

They stood by the graves for a while, after the dirt had settled. Five graves, all in a row. All exactly thirty centimetres apart. There was barely any room for another one, Ben thought – but he supposed there would be. Their father was the sort of person who would have thought of this when designing the courtyard. 

Vanya tugged on him to go inside once it started snowing, the small flakes floating in the air around them. Ben complied, and the two of them ambled inside slowly. Ben led them to Vanya’s room. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight ever again. 

She sat down heavily on her bed, while he took her desk chair. His eyes roamed around the small room – Five’s pillow had replaced her own on the bed, and his textbooks were in a neat stack on her desk. She had displayed a few of Diego’s action figures along her windowsill, and his set of knives was resting against her music stand. Allison’s scrunchies rested on her bedside table, along with a few bottles of the nail polish. She took off Allison’s coat and got up to hang it in her closet, where numerous other pieces of clothing belonging to Allison were also hanging.

Ben watched her as she went and sat back down, his mouth dry. He… was at a loss for words. He and Vanya used to be close, along with Five, but – he found he had no idea what to say to her. She gave him a very weak smile, and all he could do was replicate it. 

They sat there in silence for a bit, processing their thoughts and emotions. 

“...Dad’s coming home with another new kid tomorrow,” said Ben after a second, breaking the silence. Vanya looked up at him. “Then, I’m betting he’ll leave again to go – to go get more. Do you wanna…” he trailed off, taking stock of her face.

She seemed to realise what he meant. Did she want to go through Luther and Klaus’ rooms with him? 

“...Okay,” she whispered.

* * *

Klaus’ room was the closest, right next to Vanya’s, so they went through his first. As Ben stepped through the doorway, he couldn’t help but think – the last time he was in this room, of what had happened. Of the time before that. He swallowed, drily. He would keep Vanya away from upturning any loose floorboards, and clear them out himself later. He _did not_ want their father finding the needles.

Like Allison’s, his room was very personalised. Ben and Vanya entered, and various things immediately caught their eyes – Ben was squinting at the fairy lights spread above the desk and bed, while Vanya moved over to the bookshelf. There were a whole lot of random small posters and cards with cool designs hanging up around it, and lots of little things displayed above it. She carefully took a small poster depicting a large, gaping mouth in a pop-art style; very Klaus, thought Ben drily. Ben worked on taking down the fairy lights, unplugging them and winding them up carefully. He ran his hand along the wall, taking note of the hundreds of stickers Klaus seemed to have stuck there, and the random things he had scrawled along the plaster in different coloured markers. 

There were some interesting things written in Klaus’ messy scrawl. This was something different to a personal possession he could take; it was little bits of Klaus’ thoughts, just like Five’s notebooks, that he could record before they were inevitably painted over. He quickly left to his own room to find an empty notebook he could copy some of them into, returning promptly. He stared them over thoughtfully; “DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS”, “see no truth: speak no truth, hear no truth.” “OFF with his head”, and various different renditions of the phrase “forge my soul” were amongst the clearest. He wrote them down carefully, attempting to capture Klaus’ handwriting as best as he could. 

Vanya had, meanwhile, found the pink boa she had saved from Allison’s room to give to Klaus, and took it back gingerly. She held it up to her face, and gave a breathy sob. Ben paused in his writing – his sister was more important. He put down the notebook, and went to comfort her. She ended up taking it back to her own room, it now being Klaus’ possession as much as Allison’s. They went back; there were still many more things ripe for the taking.

Much to Ben’s exasperation, there were bottles of alcohol and creative ways to take drugs strewn about that he had missed the last time he was here; he had been too focused on finding the heroin. There was a vape just sitting on his bedside table, and a bong just below it. He was frankly shocked, but also a bit impressed, that they hadn’t been found or taken away by Mum or Pogo. After a few seconds of consideration, Ben took them to dispose of later. The last few things they took consisted of a few of the random abstract pictures he had hung up on his wall; Ben taking one or two, while Vanya grabbed at least four (“My walls are so bare, Ben,”), some scented candles, and a spread that had been hung over the back of one of his armchairs.

Ben and Vanya went to their rooms to deposit his things. Ben moved fast, finishing first – and while Vanya was still sorting out her own room, he sneaked back into Klaus’ and removed the needles from under the floorboard. He took them back to where he was storing the vape and bong, to destroy later. 

After they had taken about as much as they thought they could from Klaus, they moved on to Luther.

Going into Luther’s room gave Ben some kind of impression of finality. This was it – He and Vanya were really... alone. It was always Luther giving Ben this feeling; first, Luther was Ben’s only brother – and now, he was a reminder that Ben had nobody left in the Umbrella Academy who would be there with him on missions. He would soon be surrounded by random children he was sure to hate just as much as the first two – cheap replacements for the siblings he would never get back.

He entered Luther’s room feeling sick, a deep, horrible grief welling up in him which he shoved down as deep as it could go. Vanya… needed him right now. Needed him to be strong, for her.

Luther’s room was like Diego’s, in the sense that there were various belongings and things that showed his personality, but it was nowhere near as personalised as Allison or Klaus’ rooms. It was also freakishly clean – there was no mess, no clothes on the floor, no books and homework strewn about. It was all neat and organised, and it was so purely _Luther_ that it made a bubble of fondness well up inside him.

He and Vanya didn’t have any trouble with what to pick from this room.

Luther had always been fond of music. It was perhaps the only way in which he had ever directly gone against their father – their father _hated_ any music other than classical. He thought it was a waste of time, something that brought down intelligence, something that only stupid people or wastes of space enjoyed. Despite knowing their father’s stance, Luther still held a hefty collection of vinyls and his very own record player. Ben had no idea where he got them from; but it wasn’t uncommon to hear music from Luther’s room ringing throughout their house when their father was out.

Ben instantly went to this collection, running his hands along the edges of all the slips. He didn’t know how Luther sorted the records, so he pulled a stack of several out at random.

The song at the top was, ‘I Think We’re Alone Now’; the original 1987 cover by Tiffany. The single version.

He took them, that particular song feeling extra special to him for some reason. 

Vanya had gone to examine the posters by his bed; Luther had also always loved space, and there were various constellation charts and scientific posters hung up around. There was even one of Luther himself, posing for a magazine photoshoot he had done, wearing a spacesuit with the caption ‘Spaceboy’. Luther had been so excited when he heard he would wear a real spacesuit – though he had been mortified once he realised what the caption was. They had all playfully teased and ribbed him over it, but he had hung it up anyway. Vanya took it down with care, staring at his face for a second, before rolling it up. 

Ben took one of his other posters, one with a map of the constellations on it. The rest of his room was fairly basic; school supplies on the desk, uniforms lined up neatly in the closet, everything with a boyish blue colour scheme. Luther wasn’t one to express his personality through small quirks like some of the others were. The only other thing which Ben thought might be worth taking were some of Luther’s model aeroplanes. He had a bunch of small figurines of them lined up neatly on top of his bookshelf – each one a different type. Vanya and Ben took all of them, dividing them randomly between them. There were also a few wooden, hand made ones hanging from strings from the ceiling – Ben stood on Luther’s desk chair to gently take them down, remembering when he had first made them. He had been so proud that he had brought one down to breakfast to show them all one morning – only for the sight of their father to make him lose his nerve and quickly run to his room to put them back. 

Ben took them down with care, making sure not to handle the delicate wooden structures too roughly. He passed one down to Vanya, who smiled sadly, holding it out to look it over better. There were three in total; Ben took two, as his room was larger, and Vanya took one. Before they left, Vanya took another look around – before quickly taking a stack of random records for herself from his shelf. 

They had to leave in two rounds, one taking his records back to their rooms, and the other taking everything else. 

By the time they finished, it was getting dark outside despite it only being late afternoon. Ben sat with Vanya in her room, helping her set out Klaus and Luther’s things. Her room was getting pretty cluttered with all of their siblings’ things; there was hardly any room for anything that Vanya might own for herself. Not that there was any. In fact, the only thing Ben could see that might actually belong to Vanya was her violin, leaning against her bed, neglected and covered in dust.

She hadn’t used it in so long. Ben couldn’t remember the last time she had played it; she had stopped sometime around… Allison, maybe. It seemed so long ago. He remembered it… sounding awful. Depressing.

“Hey, Vanya,” he said, making his way over to it. He crouched down next to it, running a hand down the case, brushing off the coating of dust. She turned to him from where she had been setting up a few of Klaus’ candles on her desk, her eyes wide in question.

“Do you think… you could play something?” He asked. Even though his recent memories of it involved feelings of grief and pain, he also had a lot of good memories tied to her playing. He was sure she did, too – he knew that Five had often sat with her while she played, he knew that Klaus sometimes asked her to play something if he was having difficulty blocking out the ghosts. The others had all enjoyed it in some way or another too. “You haven’t played in so long, and… I kind of miss it. I miss sitting here with you and just… listening.”

Vanya opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She looked… pained. 

“I… I’ve lost my passion for it,” she said after a second of silence. She moved to sit next to the case, leaning against the foot of the bed and pulling her knees to her chest. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever been able to do which made me even a bit special, and… I’m not even that good,” she whispered. 

“That’s not true,” frowned Ben, moving a hand onto her shoulder. “I – really love your playing. And… I know the others did, too. Remember – remember how Five always used to come in here to work on his equations while you played?” he asked, desperately scrabbling for something to cheer her up. “He always said that it helped him concentrate, remember?” 

Vanya nodded slowly, then let out a quiet sniffle. Ben quickly picked up the case and moved it to the side, taking its place next to her. He pulled her into a one-armed hug, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“I… miss him so much,” she whispered. “I miss them all so much.”

“M…” Ben began, choking up. “Me – too. It’s just… it’s just us now, Vanya,” 

Vanya was silent. Ben glanced at her face, concerned. 

She wore a vacant smile, staring at her violin case absently.

“Yeah,” she said quietly after a second. “Just us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phrases in Klaus’ room taken from [this](https://imgur.com/gallery/P9AwT1Q) gallery of set photos.


	12. I lose sight of you on your blind journey,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘Parliament Hill Fields’ by Sylvia Plath  
> Make sure you read the tags before you read this chapter.

Their father, just as he had informed them, returned the next day. It was much the same as last time; he ordered all of them to be awake and lined up, waiting for him in numerical order, for when he would walk through the doors at exactly 7:00am. 

Ben stood in line, the girl to his left and Vanya to his right, dead silent. It was less out of intimidation and anticipation this time, and more… because he wanted to be defiant. He would not acknowledge the other two children, for any reason.

Waiting like this also brought back awful, horrible, memories, of the last time this had happened. The first time two of his siblings were replaced without so much as a blink from their father. The rage that had been constantly simmering beneath the surface since that day threatened to come back up, and he could feel it. He could feel the absolute disdain for their father and any new children he brought along moving slowly through his veins, molten. 

It was made worse by the fact that he could do absolutely nothing about it. Their father seemed so determined to pretend that the others had never existed, and it made Ben want to cry in frustration and pain. He felt their absence in his soul, and their father seemed to have barely acknowledged it beyond addressing its inconveniences. 

Once again, at 7:00am on the dot, the front door opened, and their father stepped through. 

Ben grit his teeth at the sight of him, feeling as if they could crack.

Their father stood tall, as usual, a proud smug smirk on his face. “Children,” he said, and Ben hated how he still instinctively stood at attention. Their father eyed them critically, his smirk turning to a frown, stony and cold.

“Pogo has informed me of how your mission went,” he said, his voice tight and clipped. Ben felt a flush of heat – anger, shame, grief – but their father continued, barely glancing at him. 

“The mission objective was a success. I am satisfied with your performances, Number Two and Number Five. However;” he said, his voice turning cold. He turned to Ben, and Ben’s mind short circuited. “Number Six, your performance was abysmal. You did very little in the entire mission, and your incompetence and lack of spatial awareness cost me my Number One,” he said, his voice betraying only disappointment and a calm fury. No sadness for the loss of a life. No sadness for the loss of one of his children.

Vanya made a small whimper next to him, but their father ignored it. The girl and Two remained silent, not offering any corrections over Ben’s helpfulness in the mission in the face of their father’s wrath. Their father continued, nonplussed. “Because of you, I must once again leave on a journey to find a replacement – two replacements, since Number Four has apparently succumbed to his pathetic weakness to useless recreational supplements. I must say – I am regretful that Number Four never reached his full potential, but will take this as an opportunity to find someone better.” His face twisted into something ugly. “I hope you think long and hard about how your laziness has cost the Umbrella Academy one of its most valuable members, Number Six. Am I clear?” 

Ben’s mouth was dry. He stared at their father, his eyes wide in complete disbelief.

How…

How could he.

How could he? 

Ben felt his eyes fill with tears, his face grow hot and his throat grow tight. Their father…

Their father was a monster. Ben felt – so – 

He knew what had happened. It replayed in his head every day. The heavy haze in his mind from Klaus. The sharp, intense pain in his head. The feeling of Luther ramming into him. The three gunshots, still ringing in his ears, over and over and over. But hearing their father say it out loud, made Ben so confused and upset he didn’t know what to think. He knew – he knew it was his fault. He didn’t need their father to affirm that for him. He didn’t need to be told to think about it or think about the results of it.

But Luther – Luther had been so loyal to their father, had loved him so much, even though he never received a shred of love back, and their father hadn’t even bothered to show up to his funeral. 

A ‘valuable member of the Academy’. 

That’s all Luther had been to him. That’s all any of them had been to him, that’s how Ben was to him. And that jab at Klaus – it was typical and disgusting. ‘Find someone better' – as if there was anyone in the world who could replace Klaus, not that their father agreed. Not even a shred of sympathy. Just disappointment, and maybe, if he stretched it, a mild irritation. He had said he would take the opportunity – was he  _ happy  _ about this? 

A new feeling filled Ben – one he had commonly associated with their father, but not in this particular way.

It was fear. Ben was filled with a sharp, sudden burst of fear – how could one man be sociopathic enough to  _ say  _ something like that? Ben had just lost his entire family, two of them within the last few days. 

They were supposed to be their father’s family, too. They all called him  _ Dad,  _ for god’s sake.

Ben’s face trembled, and he could only nod.

“Good,” their father said, his face twisted into a wicked snarl. “I will endeavour to increase the intensity of your training so this does not happen again. But, for now –” he turned away from Ben, and he felt the tight knot in his chest loosen a little bit. He hadn’t realised that he had locked himself into place until he found himself unlocking, his limbs relaxing and posture slumping. 

Knowing what was coming next, Ben quickly and quietly snatched Vanya’s hand from where it was hanging awkwardly behind her back. He sneaked a glance at her face, but her head was bowed and her fringe was covering her eyes.

“Children,” their father said, and Ben stood back up straight. He didn’t care if he was caught holding Vanya’s hand – she needed it. And – he thought, glancing at Vanya again – he needed it too. “As you are aware, I have been travelling the globe in search of another extraordinary child to replace Number Three with, just as I did for the previous Numbers Two and Five. I have once again been successful, and I would like to introduce you to the newest member of the Umbrella Academy. COME!” he shouted again – and it was so similar to how it had been last time, right down to all of them giving a startled jump at the sudden noise.

Just as it had last time, the front door opened to reveal another thirteen year-old in the Umbrella Academy uniform coming through, walking to stand by their father.

Ben stared, having expected it, but still not quite comprehending it. It was another boy, his hair a dark ash-blond colour, shoulder length and greasy. He stood – not as confidently as Two and the girl had, but still looking right at home next to their father. He looked over them all curiously – and Ben tried to shoot him the most venomous glare he could. 

“Number Three, please introduce yourself,” their father said, just as he had last time. It was so similar – it could almost be a dream. 

Ben felt Vanya’s hand begin to tremble in his own, and he gently nudged her.

“You okay?” he whispered, his own voice shaking slightly. She gave a very minuscule nod, so small that Ben only noticed it because he was looking for it, and let out a broken squeak. Her fringe was still covering her face, but Ben was harshly reminded of her reaction last time, and squeezed her hand harder. 

This little exchange made Ben once again miss the real name of the new boy, but he once again didn’t care and wasn’t going to ask. He would be labelled as ‘Three’, just as Two and the girl before him had earned their little nicknames. His power was that he could shoot a powerful blast of energy from his face – which he didn’t demonstrate, thankfully. Ben watched him, feeling the ugly wave of loathing wash over him anew.

Even if his father wanted to, he would never forget his siblings. He would never replace them in his mind with these… people.

“I will remain here in order to supervise Number Three’s initiation into your training, as I did last time. I have not prepared any missions – missions will begin again when the Umbrella Academy has a complete set of members. When I am satisfied with Number Three’s progress, I will once again set off in pursuit of new teammates. Is this clear?”

Two and the girl nodded; Two seemed eager for a new training partner, bouncing on the spot slightly, and the girl smiled politely at her new comrade. Ben nodded too, unable to do anything else, gritting his teeth and glaring at the new boy. Vanya, again, didn’t move – but their father didn’t care, not sparing her a single glance. Ben gripped her hand harder, as she began to shake next to him.

“Very well. Number Three, please take your rightful spot next to Numbers Two and Five. I would like to see my team, complete as it is, for now, all together,”

Three nodded, wandering over between Two and the girl. Two stepped aside eagerly, and Three slotted himself in, looking up at their father for approval. He was tall and lanky, just like Klaus had been, towering over the rest of them, and it made Ben’s chest ache in disdain and longing. The only upside was that the number three was not next to the number six, so Ben didn’t have to make room like he had last time.

It felt like – a betrayal of some kind, every time he did that. 

“Wonderful,” their father said, his face again twisting into a cruel smile. “Your training will begin in two hours. Be ready and on time, I will not accept anything less. You are dismissed.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ben was dragging Vanya back up the stairs by her hand. He was going to spend every spare second he had with her.

* * *

Training was awful without anyone else. Ben felt isolated, targeted by their father, and didn’t speak to anyone. This often would lead him into a depression, being left to his own thoughts, which made him perform worse, which made their father focus on him more. It was like Klaus all over again, with the feedback-loop of getting punished and receiving more training. 

Ben hated it.

He wanted to be with Vanya, who was stuck on her own again all the time. She was continuing her regular schooling while Ben and the other children had to train, and he wanted to be there with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he had just sat down in a class to learn – it had definitely been when most of his siblings were still alive. He couldn’t imagine how it must be for Vanya – he was only just starting to realise how alone she must have been feeling when they were all training over the past weeks. 

He endeavoured to spend as much time as possible with her to make up for his previous neglect, and since they were the other’s only remaining connection to how things used to be. Ben was happy to see that she seemed to have somewhat snapped out of the perpetual funk she had been in since Five – though it also worried him heavily. Sudden change in behaviour was never a good sign. 

Despite this, there was nothing he could do about it other than keep an eye on her. They ended up spending a lot of time together, outside of training. They would sit in the courtyard in companionable silence, he would help her with homework in her room, or he could sometimes manage to drag her out to the library to sit and read, like they used to do with Five. He even got her to pick up her violin again a few times – though much to his disappointment, it was still hard to listen to. The sounds it made as Vanya moved her bow across the strings were dead and lifeless, void of emotions. It was just pure noise; and after a few times, he stopped suggesting it to her and she didn’t pick it up on her own. 

Three was different to the other two. He wasn’t as focused in training, often fiddling with something or other, and only seemed to be half paying attention whenever he and Ben sparred. He reminded Ben a bit of Klaus in that regard, which was both good and bad at the same time. He probably preferred Three over Two or the girl to fight against, but being reminded of Klaus was painful. He moved into Allison’s old room barely a day or so after he was introduced, and suddenly Ben was constantly running into one of the three of them in the hallways.

He was getting tired of it. It was an endless, perpetual cycle – Ben and Vanya were alone, and Ben had to wonder… when would it end? Would they both be stuck in this place forever, surrounded by the ghosts of their siblings, mourning, as their father replaced them all one by one? He hated to think about it and shoved it aside for later, once his emotions untangled themselves from their volatile state. 

One day, Ben and Vanya were sitting together in the library, reading. It was about a week or so into their new training with Three, and Ben was still relaxing after having been lightly blasted by him. Despite seeming airheaded a lot of the time, he always endeavoured to impress their father, and it was incredibly annoying when that involved hurting his sparring partner. 

They were sitting in silence, Ben flipping through an encyclopedia on Greek mythology (their father hated fiction, and this was as close as it got) and Vanya sitting on her knees going through the lower level of one of the shelves. Ben was trying desperately to distract himself from the aching in his bones that Three’s face blast had caused, when Vanya spoke, her voice quiet and meek.

“You…” she began, whispering so quietly Ben barely heard it. “You know I – I love you, right, Ben?” 

Ben looked up from his book, lightning fast. “Yes,” he said immediately. He stood up from his chair, placing the book down onto it and going to kneel down next to her. 

“Of course, Vanya,” he said, placing a hand on her knee. Her head was bowed, her fringe obscuring her face in shadow, but she was trembling. Ben gently brushed her fringe away from her eyes, quickly becoming frightened when he saw that she was crying.

“I love you, too,” he said. He softly took a hold of her chin and moved her face so that their eyes met. Hers were red and swollen, glistening with fresh tears in the dim light of the library. Another one slipped over as he looked, and he thumbed it away. “I love you,” he said. “So much. What…” he struggled for the words, watching her face as she tried to hold her emotions in. “What – brought this on, Vanya?” 

“I just,” she said, sniffling. She rose an arm up to her face and scrubbed at her eyes, and Ben watched in concern. “Had to – m-make sure you knew,” she finished, lowering her arm. Her face was red and blotchy, and her voice had cracked. More tears streamed down her face, and she grit her teeth, cringing. 

“I-I’m sorry, I –” she sobbed, going to wipe her face again. Ben gently took a hold of her arm, and lowered it. “It’s okay to cry, Vanya,” he said. He took a careful hold of her hand and pulled her up. “Let’s go sit down, yeah?” he said, and she nodded. They stepped over to the couch, Vanya practically collapsing against it and burying her face in her hands. Ben sat down gingerly next to her, his hands hovering, but unsure what to do. 

“I l-love you,” she sobbed into her hands. “I just need-ded to t-t-tell you,” she continued, stuttering, but her voice still quiet. “Before – Before –” 

“Hey,” Ben said quickly, moving up to stand in front of her, crouching to her eye level. He took a hold of her hands, and she lifted her face to look at him. Her bottom lip was trembling, and there were strands of her long hair stuck to her wet cheeks. “Nothing –” he said, looking directly into her eyes. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me, okay?” he said firmly.

He meant it. He would not leave her alone. 

Her face crumpled, and she let out another broken sob before pressing her face to his hands, still holding her own. “I love you, Vanya,” he breathed, feeling tears come to his own eyes. “I would never let anything happen, okay?” he reassured her. 

He was glad he said it out loud. He could tell her this, and mean it with all his heart – 

He hadn’t gotten a chance to say it to the rest of his siblings. He wished that he had. Just once.

She didn’t answer. 

Vanya sat in the library with Ben, sobbing into her hands, until Ben was called back to continue with training for the day.

He couldn’t concentrate after that. He was paired with the girl, which was annoying, but – something about that interaction with Vanya had seemed… off.

He thought it over as he was buffeted by crows from every angle. A lot of interactions with Vanya had seemed odd lately, even. She had never been the most talkative, especially after – Five – but she was opening up more lately. Usually, that would not be concerning, but Ben had pinpointed it as strange simply because it was so out of character for her. It was sudden, too – her behaviour had changed just a few days ago, between seeing her the night they had found Klaus, and the morning of Luther’s funeral. Something had changed in her. 

She had told him she loved him. She had been crying.

Ben could write it off as wanting to just say it – a lesson learned from all their deceased siblings who Ben could not be  _ absolutely  _ certain knew they were loved before they were killed. He could write it off as extreme worry for him, as he was still going to be going on missions. He could write it off as a sudden moment of realisation – but her reaction had been frightening. And she had said something –

_ “I just need-ded to t-t-tell you – Before – Before –”  _

His stomach swooped in concern. She had been really upset. He managed to land a blow on a few crows, who all screeched, the sound ringing through Ben’s brain. He needed to check up on her as soon as this training session was over.

Unfortunately, it was a long one. Their father didn’t think Three had gotten the hang of most basic fighting moves yet, so they were all forced to face him numerous more times as he learnt stances and swings. They kept going, no breaks, until there were only a few minutes left until dinner. A few minutes they were required to use to clean themselves up and get changed back into their uniforms, needing to be presentable for when they sat down. 

Ben had been worked quite hard this session; he was covered in cuts and bruises from fighting Two and the girl, and the deep ache in his bones was back from being subjected to another one of Three’s weak face beams. He needed to clean up – he would see Vanya at dinner. He could check on her then. 

When they arrived at the table, however, she wasn’t there.

They all stood behind their chairs, waiting silently and standing stiffly. Ben stared at his plate, glanced at Vanya’s vacant spot behind her chair, and stared back at his plate. Her – their – food was going to get cold.

Vanya was never late. She was too intimidated by their father to even entertain the idea of being late. Something – something was wrong. 

Their father was getting antsy, he could tell. He dared to look up at him; his face was stony, and he was staring at Vanya’s vacant spot with complete contempt. He had to – do something. 

“Um,” he tried, looking slightly to their father’s left. Every eye at the table was instantly on him; he who had dared break the silence. 

“What do you want, boy?” their father barked, catching it. “If you want something, look me in the eyes, Number Six,” 

Ben struggled to, but eventually managed it, his own eyes meeting the steely grey of their father’s. “Sir,” he said. “Do you mind if I… go and check on Vanya?” 

He flinched and internally cringed immediately afterwards, quickly looking back down at his plate. There was dead silence for a few seconds – Three was eyeing him in curiosity from Allison’s spot, while Two wore a grin in anticipation and the girl looked more stoic than usual, no doubt being annoyed. 

Their father considered him for a moment. “...Very well,” he said coldly, and Ben looked up, hopeful. “But be quick about it. If that girl is not here in the next minute, she is not getting any dinner, understood?” 

Ben nodded frantically. “Off with you, then,” said their father, making a waving motion with his hand. 

Ben didn’t look back as he quickly ran towards the staircase, feeling the eyes of the others boring into his retreating form.

He climbed up them as fast as he was able, his hand running along the wooden banister, feeling slightly sick in anticipation. “VANYA!” he called out when he reached the top, slowing down. It had been drilled into him to the point of instinct not to run down the hallways.

No reply.

He approached her door carefully. There was no noise coming from the other side.

Reaching out, his hand grabbed the doorknob, and he twisted slowly, not wanting to scare her. The door opened a crack, and he peeked through. 

At first, he thought the room was empty, but after a second he spied her. Vanya was slumped over her desk, her arms folded in front of her, acting as a pillow for her forehead. She was very still – she almost looked asleep.

Ben wouldn’t blame her if she was. He had been exhausted lately too, but – 

His stomach did a nervous flip, and he opened the door the rest of the way to enter her room. “Vanya?” he said again, approaching her to go and shake her shoulder. “Dad wants you down for dinner, c’mon –” his voice cracked, betraying his fear. 

His hand touched her shoulder, and he shook. No reaction. Her shoulder felt stiff and – cold. 

He recoiled his hand, feeling a jolt of fear run through him that turned slowly into panic, boiling low and thick in his gut. He shook her again – nothing. 

“Vanya!” he said, more urgently this time. He moved over to try and get a look at her face, but his eyes caught something on her desk next to her. A piece of paper, folded neatly in half, with ‘Ben’ written on the top. The handwriting was shaky, and the ink had bled in some places, indicating it had been wet. 

Ben’s eyes widened – and his heart pounded erratically against his ribcage. 

“VANYA!” he yelled out, fear consuming him wide and whole. He shook her shoulder in panic again, this time much more harshly. Her arm jerked, and her head lolled out of place. Her arm hit something on the desk to her left, the other side to the piece of paper. It clattered to the floor with a hollow sound, and rolled over to rest at Ben’s feet. 

Momentarily pausing in his shaking, he jumped slightly and stared down at it. Leaning over, he picked it up.

It was Vanya’s prescription bottle – the one he knew had been at least mostly full that morning. It was empty.

He stared at it, his mind going blank. 

“V-vanya,” he said, his voice coming out in a sob. He set the bottle down next to the bit of paper.

Her arm had moved out from under her head when he had shaken her, causing her head to fall to the side slightly, leaving her face exposed. Ben moved over and crouched down at eye-level with her.

Her eyes were half open, glazed over and cloudy. Her lips were blue, and her skin was as white as paper. There was a glob of foamed up saliva stuck to the corner of her mouth. No breath passed her lips.

“No,” Ben sobbed, collapsing onto his knees in front of her. He desperately grabbed at her hand, the appendage hanging limp and cold in his grasp.

He was alone.

* * *

_ Ben, _

_ If you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just can’t keep going.  _

_ I’m just so tired and sad all the time. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be happy. I can’t stand it here. Dad hates us, and I hate myself. I miss Five and the others. I want to be with them. When I see them again, I’ll say hi for you.  _

_ I wish I wasn’t leaving you alone in that horrible house, but I just can’t stand it. Another day and I might have just died of a broken heart anyway. _

_ I love you. _


	13. There is more than one good way to drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter from the poem ‘Epitaph in Three Parts’ by Sylvia Plath
> 
> The third cries out as all the ships go down:  
> announcing after glutted birds have flown:  
> A wave of grass engraves upon the stone:  
> ‘There is more than one good way to drown.’

Their… _his_ father only stuck around for a day or two after that. Ben woke up one morning to find the house void of his presence, once again no explanation given. The schedule had originally had him staying to train them for a few weeks longer, but now down another child, he seemed to want to fast track the process. 

When Ben stumbled across Pogo one afternoon, standing in the sitting room and staring at the fireplace, his explanation was tired and his eyes were old.

“Your father wants a complete team as quick as possible, my dear boy,” he said, gazing over Ben’s exhausted face. “The Umbrella Academy is what is most important to him, I’m afraid, and now he has nothing holding him back.” 

Even Pogo wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. 

Ben went through Vanya’s room as soon as he could, after that. He was only half aware of what he was doing – his mind was covered in a thick fog, the only feelings being a heavy, deep nostalgia as he picked up her violin. It sat low, a weight in his chest, physically pulling him down and making him numb. He thought perhaps he just… simply wasn’t able to feel anything anymore. His emotions had taken too much of a beating. 

Despite his soul being an abyss, his face was constantly stinging and aching from all the abuse his tear ducts were taking. It made him think that maybe he was just in a deep seated denial to protect himself, not that the feelings were gone. He didn’t want to think about it. The only thing he knew for sure, was – that it was his fault. He hadn’t been enough for her.

He wasn’t really sure what his father would do with this room. It was too small for him to give to one of his replacement soldiers, but who knew with his father? The man was an anomaly. Ben took everything he could anyway – he took all of the things Vanya had kept from the others – Five’s notebooks and Diego’s quilt and Allison’s scrunchies and Klaus’ candles and Luther’s poster – and the very minimal number of Vanya’s own belongings. They consisted of her violin, a book of sheet music, and her music stand. Barely anything. 

By the time Ben had rearranged all of them in his own room, it was cluttered and crowded. He sat in there, staring at it all, at a complete loss of how to continue. 

What was there left for him? Why was he still here? 

He had no answer. His brain and body were on autopilot, and he barely comprehended what he did anymore. 

Days passed in a blur, Ben sitting in the recesses of his mind, watching his body make movements as an observer. The other children were barely affected, unsurprisingly. They did give him space though – he barely saw anybody other than his mother or Pogo for days in a row.

It was surreal. The mansion felt hundreds of times larger than it actually was, the absence of anyone other than himself warping and distorting it to a larger scale. When he did see one of the others, they barely acknowledged him – and if they did, he was treated like glass, one poke and he would shatter into a million billion pieces. 

He felt like a ghost, wandering around the house without purpose. He didn’t eat. He didn’t talk. He didn’t read or do anything else. He thought of Klaus, and how he had mentioned being followed by Allison and Diego. He wondered if their ghosts, along with the rest, were following him around, watching him in his pathetic attempt at living. He thought of Vanya, and if her ghost was still here, how pointless it was that she had brought death upon herself, only to be unable to leave. He wondered if they had abandoned him too, for a second time, moving on to whatever was after death.

He hoped they had. They didn’t deserve this. He didn’t want them to see him waste what they had lost. He didn’t want Vanya to see what she had done to him.

Days passed, but nobody came to get him for Vanya’s funeral. A sense of confusion began to creep into his mind, parting the fog and giving him a semblance of awareness. He sought out Pogo, intending to ask about it, wanting to be there for his sister’s last moments as she was lowered into a hole thirty centimetres to the right of where Luther rested. It was the least he could do. He had failed her so disgustingly. He had wasted his chance to help her. 

“I’m so sorry, my boy,” said Pogo, his voice weary. “I thought that your father had told you. He buried Miss Vanya the day before he left on his journey, but did not wish to disturb any of your or the other children’s endeavours. As such, he elected to do it alone and as quickly as possible.”

Pogo’s face twisted in guilt, even he not willing to defend his father on this one. “I truly am sorry, Master Ben. If I had known he did not inform you, I would have done so myself immediately.” 

Something else cut through the confusion and haze. A pain, so deep and great, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. 

Ben didn’t have to go and see for himself, because he knew it was true.

Vanya’s headstone was small, barely anything compared to the respectable slabs of marble for the rest of Ben’s siblings. All that was on it was the name and date. No special umbrella insignia. No short message. No patterned and carved stone. Just a rectangular piece of stone, rounded at the top.

Ben ran his hands down it. It looked incredibly lonely next to the more extravagant stones down the rest of the line. Vanya was isolated, ordinary compared to the others, even in the dark waters of death. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, staring at the textured granite that was all that remained of his sister. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” he choked off. He kind of hated her. He kind of hated himself. He was kind of jealous of her for having the guts to do it.

The courtyard was nearly full, now. Ben stood back on the stone bench, and observed. 

Six headstones all in a row. All depressingly young ages. All within a depressingly short timespan.

He eyed the empty plot of dirt thirty centimetres to the right of Vanya’s pitiful little headstone. There was room enough for exactly one more. 

He ambled over, and laid down slowly where his own coffin would go. He rested his head parallel to where Vanya’s was resting below him, thirty centimetres to the left, and his feet stretched out to only just miss the edge.

He lay there, and stared at the sky.

* * *

It all ended on a morning in January, 2003, which felt like years after that November morning in 2002.

Ben didn’t know his father had returned until he called for Ben to meet him in his office. There was no fanfare, no introduction of the new children Ben knew he had brought back. 

Ben wasn’t really doing… anything, so he went without complaint or question. 

When he entered, his father was sitting at his desk, leaned over, writing something. To Ben’s mild surprise – there was someone else there, too. A girl. She was standing directly next to his father, on his left, also behind the desk.

She was one of the new children he had brought back. She was tall, with light tan skin and puffy brown hair pulled into a high ponytail, which flowed down her back like a river. She didn’t look that surprised to see him come in, so Ben supposed she was more in the know than he was. He suspected there had already been meetings and introductions without him present, but – 

He didn’t care. 

Ben stood in the doorway silently as his father wrote, waiting for acknowledgement. The girl was studying him curiously, and he stared back at her. He wondered which of his siblings’ numbers this one would take. 

The silence stretched on for another minute, tense and cold, before his father looked up and took stock of Ben. Ben stood, waiting. He wasn’t going to start this discussion.

“...Number Six,” his father eventually said, putting down his pen and leaning back to sit up straight in the chair. “I have called you in here today to discuss a very important matter. Sit, if you will,” he said, motioning to the chair situated in front of his desk. 

Ben was filled with another wave of mild surprise. None of them were ever asked to sit down when faced with their father. It was way too much as if they were being treated as equals, something their father would never, ever entertain. Not wanting to get in trouble and just wanting this to be over with, Ben pulled up the chair and sat.

“Very good,” his father said, clasping his fists together and placing them in front of him on the desk. “Now, it has come to my attention, Number Six, that you are the last remaining member of the Umbrella Academy’s original class.” 

Ben’s mouth went dry. He stared at his father. His father continued, ignoring any reaction Ben might have shown.

“As you are aware, I have successfully found suitable replacements for your deceased siblings, who will be your new teammates on missions and companions throughout this household. Unfortunately, the Umbrella Academy’s reputation has been tarnished in the process, leading me to make the decision of renaming it to something new.” 

Ben’s first reaction was a single spark of anger – of course his father would want to erase any trace of his failed experiments from the mansion. It was quickly overtaken by a familiar apathy – there was nothing at all he would be able to do about it, and he had realised long ago that anger and hatred was useless. It did nothing but make him feel bitter. His second reaction, not a split second after, was confusion – why did his father feel the need to tell him this personally? Ben would have expected to just wake up one morning to the name having been changed. He definitely would not have thought his father would tell him directly. 

“However,” continued his father, still ignoring any reaction Ben might have had, “In order to begin this transition, I have instructed Grace to paint a portrait of you – the last connection to the previous academy – that will be displayed above the mantelpiece.”

Ben’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. What?

His father continued. “This will serve as a reminder to the other children of the failures of the previous Academy and how to avoid them. You do not need to pose for this portrait – Grace has a lifetime of observations in her memory that she will be able to refer to as a basis. I thought it fit to inform you of the purpose of this painting, Number Six, as it should serve as a reminder to you most of all. You will look at this painting, and remember that you are the one to have surpassed all your siblings from the failure of the old academy.”

By the end of this, Ben’s mouth had begun to hang open, his father's words not quite computing in his exhausted brain. A mix of heavy incomprehension and the usual infuriation, though muted, at the gall of his father fought for dominance in his mind, one never quite winning out. 

A portrait of him… to serve as a reminder of the failures of the Umbrella Academy. The prospect was deeply hurtful, hitting on tender emotional spots he hadn’t even been sure he had. Those other children would study him as a model of what not to be – the pathetic, last standing member of a defunct academy. If he was the failure, what were his siblings?

His father levelled him with an even gaze, looking him right in the eye. “I have decided to rename the Umbrella Academy to the Sparrow Academy. You will, from now on, fully be a member of the Sparrow Academy, mind, body and soul. The Umbrella Academy will not enter your thoughts at any moment. Am I clear?” 

He couldn't ask that of Ben. That was impossible. 

His father’s glare was icy, drilling past Ben’s stubborn emotions and making him nod numbly. His father gave a minuscule smile of satisfaction, before turning his head to motion to the girl standing next to him. She had been silent and still the whole time, staring at something in the distance in order to avoid staring at them. 

“In order to assist you with this transition, I have brought one of your new teammates in here with me for you to create a personal connection faster. This is Number Seven;” he said, indicating to the girl again. “She will replace the old Number Seven, except her role will be as one of the team. She has powers, you see,” said his father, “That are extraordinarily useful.”

It was typical, thought Ben, that his father would take the instant Vanya was gone as an opportunity to replace her with a better model. Her body was barely cold.

Ben was silent. 

“I would like you to begin your introductions now,” said his father, “So I may observe your progress more directly.” 

The girl nodded, and turned to Ben.

“I’m Carla,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you; you must be Ben?” 

Ben finally looked at her in order to stare at her tiredly, resigned. He was too exhausted to direct any rage at her, even though she knew very well that he was Ben.

He nodded anyway, not wanting to incur unnecessary wrath from his father. Carla smiled indulgently at him, continuing despite Ben’s indifferent approach. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet earlier with the others,” she said. “Our father said that you were upset and needed some time alone, which I get. I’m happy I get the chance to meet you now – I hope we can be friends, and that we can help integrate each other into this new routine,” she said, her voice sympathetic and her eyes soft.

Ben hated her, a muted, helpless sort of hatred. He hated her. He wanted her to go away. He wanted all of the others to go away. He wanted his siblings back.

One look at his father told him that he would not be escaping without at least pretending that he was feeling the exact opposite. 

“Thank you, Carla,” he said with extreme politeness, bordering on sarcasm. She smiled at him again. 

“Tell me, Ben,” she said, and Ben could have sworn that she shot the quickest of glances at his father – though she was back looking at him so fast, he thought he imagined it. “What did your old teammates mean to you? I hope we can be that too, one day.”

Her simple was soft, and voice was genuinely curious, and – 

Ben thought of Five. He thought of sitting and working on homework with him. He thought of listening to his long winded rants about time travel that Ben had no hope of understanding. He thought of training with him in a pair, training against him as a sparring partner. He thought of his arrogance and pride, but softness and sweetness around only Ben and Vanya. He thought of Five showing off his powers, the otherworldly blue crackling and swirling proudly around his fists. He thought of his deep seated, fierce, absolute loyalty to and love towards them. He thought of how Five would have done anything, anything at all for them, from the smallest of menial tasks to burning down the whole world. 

He thought of Five, and how Five had killed himself trying to make sure they were safe. He thought of Five, and he felt the deep, intense ache of sorrow, reaching into his soul and holding on, it’s cold claws digging in and reminding him that he would never, ever see Five again.

Ben thought of Diego. He thought of his stutter, the amount of work he put into fixing it and how proud he was whenever he managed to squeeze out a coherent sentence. He thought of his playful rivalry with Luther, each of them providing entertaining banter for the rest of them to laugh at. He thought of his stubbornness and hotheadedness, countered by the soft way he would look at their mother and spend lots of time with her. He thought of Diego’s intense protective streak, towards them and towards their mother, and how it meant he tried his hardest to never let anything hurt them. 

He thought of Diego, and how his burning, heroic heart and spirit had led him to always do the right thing. He thought of how it had ultimately been his downfall, wanting to help others so badly he failed to help himself. He thought of Diego, and he felt just as protective over Diego as he had been to them, and felt the same claws of grief mocking his pain and gripping his heart in their freezing hold.

Ben thought of Allison. He thought of all the times he and Klaus had shared a joke with her. He thought of how she had always known what to say in times of stress. He thought of her levelheaded, sensible nature, and how she had been their voice of reason. He thought of Allison’s endless kindness and confidence, and how she would use it to take the spotlight off the rest of them in media stunts and to comfort them after a particularly bad mission. He thought of her occasional cattiness, or when she would use her powers to get petty things she wanted from them, but how she would make it up to them when she felt guilty about it. He thought of Allison, and how her ambitions had extended well beyond what their father had paved on her path of life. He thought of how she had been doing her best with what she was given, slowly building a future for herself that would eventually lead her away from their father’s inescapable grasp. 

He thought of Allison, and how her patience and unwillingness to leave them behind so soon had led her to go on that mission in which she would die. He thought of how it had made her leave them behind faster, the pain and hurt engraving itself into his very being, deepening the abyss in his heart.

Ben thought of Klaus. He thought of sneaking out to go and watch a movie with him. He thought of his funny jokes and quick wit. He thought of how he aspired to be a bright thing in their lives, even when faced with horrible treatment from their father himself. He thought of Klaus’ love for them shown in smaller ways, though fashion shows with Allison and sitting and listening to Vanya’s violin and reading in the library with Ben, even though he hated reading. He thought of Klaus’ narcissism and inability to deal with his powers properly, leading him down a path of self destruction and drugs, but how it had also made him unafraid to be rebellious in the face of their father and had inspired the rest of them to not be quite as afraid either. 

Ben thought of Klaus, and how he had been so lost in the face of his own powers he had nowhere to turn but addiction, and how it had led him by it’s cold hand into the veil of death. Ben thought of Klaus, and felt a guilt and regret so deep that it stole the air from his lungs and left him crushed, unable to breathe.

Ben thought of Luther. He thought of his loyalty to their father. He thought of his strong presence in training and in their lessons, always eager to impress. He thought of his assigned role of leader, and how he had taken it more seriously than anything else in his life. He thought of Luther’s soft heart, hidden behind walls of misguidance and fruitless devotion to their father. He thought of how Luther had slowly broken, being crushed under the burden of the successive deaths of their siblings and the guilt and regret that came paired. He thought of Luther, and how he had loved them with such a loyal purity that he had been completely lost without them, a leader missing more than just his team. 

Ben thought of how Luther’s love had led him to jump in front of three bullets for him, without hesitation, and how it had killed him violently and painfully. Ben thought of Luther, and felt a vine of vigorous remorse and anguish wrap around his heart and settle a weight in his chest. 

Ben thought of Vanya. He thought of her soft smiles and quiet laugh. He thought of her shy intelligence, her gentle passion when playing her violin. He thought of her worried looks and concerned aura whenever they had to go on a mission. He thought of her withdrawn nature, one that often led to the impression that she was arrogant or for her to avoid them, but countered by her sympathy and the ways she would show silent support for them. He thought of her constant desire to be included with them, a desire born of a lifetime of isolation and exclusion, yet not letting it twist into hatred or anger. He thought of how she had changed when Five was killed – how the life seemed to be sucked from her, and how it got worse right up until the end. 

Ben thought of how Vanya had loved them so much, so much that he hadn’t been able to stand to live in a world without them in it. Ben thought of Vanya and felt the frigid tendrils of helplessness and hopelessness creep up on him, binding him, reminding him that he had failed to help her. He hadn’t been enough. She was dead because of him.

Ben looked back at Carla, and her curious face and genuine voice. In that moment, he didn’t care that his father was watching and listening. He looked Carla in the eyes, and told her the truth.

“I love them,” he said, with complete confidence brimming up from the depths of his soul. His voice cracked, but he kept going with conviction. “I love them so much it hurts me physically. I – they weren’t my teammates to me, they were my – family. I’ll always remember them. I’ll always remember them as my – family. I love them. I’ll… never feel that way towards you,” he said, his gaze turning steely. His voice didn’t rise the whole time, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Carla’s face quirked into a grin, making Ben blink in momentary confusion.

“That’s sweet,” she said, beginning to rock back and forth on her heels. “However,” she continued, _“I don’t believe you.”_

Her voice echoed with an otherworldly quality. Ben’s eyes widened. Her voice rippled and distorted through the air, just like Alison’s used to whenever she used her rumours. 

Oh no, thought Ben, his mind quickly realising what that must mean. No no no. Please – 

Ben’s eyes glowed a mystic white,

And

Ben

Didn’t

Believe

It

Either

.


	14. EPILOGUE

Ben sometimes wondered about the significance of the portrait on the mantelpiece. 

They passed it every morning on the way to breakfast, and for some reason, it always sent a shiver down his spine. He never looked at it longer than a glance, but what he saw would sit at the back of his mind for the rest of the day.

He knew it was a painting of him – he’d have to be blind not to see that.

But it was different. It was a different version of him, one with no scar and short hair. He had always had that scar – and had never liked his hair short. Portrait him was one that seemed softer, different. He couldn't remember ever posing for it, and that might be what struck him wrong the most. He had lived alone in this mansion with his father, Pogo and his mother his whole life; and yet, it had been put up without him being informed.

Across the breakfast table, he often caught his new siblings staring at it, then back at him with odd gazes. It made him incredibly self conscious, but he always made sure to scowl back at them until they turned away. He kind of wanted to ask about it – but the only person he really felt comfortable talking to so far was Carla, and she had told him not to worry about it. He wouldn’t dare ask his – well, _their,_ he supposed – father, even though he probably had the answer, but chose to take it as a good thing. He felt like one of his siblings would bring it up with him if it wasn’t. They were… his teammates. His new family – he supposed he trusted them. Maybe it was a portrait commending him for his fast progress in their new team, or to remind the others that he was there first.

Their new team. Ben thought it was kind of cool that his – _their_ father had managed to find a bunch of others with powers like him, and was impressed at his idea to utilise them as a crime fighting team. Recently, their father had deemed them ready to go out on missions, and Ben wanted to do the best he could. He was assigned the position of Number Six; but he felt like he was worth more than that. He felt like if he trained hard enough, maybe their father would make him Number One. He felt he had a better hang of it than the rest of his siblings; missions felt like an old routine to him, when some of the others were struggling. He found it easiest to work with his teammates Number Five and Number Two in that aspect, though he thought he still outshined even them. 

The rest of his teammates had their own strengths, however. He could acknowledge this, and yet, he often found it difficult to train with them. During training, they were only allowed to call each other by their codenames, which Ben found a bit stupid, but could admit was probably efficient. They had been working as a team for a while now – but Ben always had this niggling at the back of his mind that it was different to what he was used to – even though he shouldn’t be used to anything. He always had a bit more difficulty with teamwork than the others, in the field and in training. Their powers just – didn’t quite match up in his mind, and he wasn’t sure why.

Number One, their leader, had a form of tactile telekinesis, which he could use to enhance his physical abilities and pick up objects nobody should be able to pick up. It often passed as super strength, and Ben thought his power suited him best. It was perfect for a leader, he thought, and it was Number One he was most comfortable training with. Ben hoped to one day be considered for the position by their father, but Number One was, for now, doing the job well enough.

Number Two’s power was a bit distressing, but he found he was just the smallest bit more comfortable with it than he was with some of the others. He could replicate self-inflicted damage onto others, and fighting against him was always a pain. Thankfully, Number Seven was able to help heal their injuries, otherwise there might have been a whole lot more problems. 

Number Three was a bit odd, as was his power. He could shoot a blast of energy from his face, which made him a great heavy hitter, but not much else. He always seemed a bit absent in training, constantly distracted by something, but it didn’t throw Ben off as much as it might have. He was used to fighting with someone not entirely there, apparently. 

Number Four was who he was most uncomfortable training with. He wasn’t actually sure what her power was – she hid it well, claiming she didn’t need to train it with them, only with their father. She was very confident and good at martial arts, but he found he could keep up with her when a lot of their other siblings couldn’t. The fact she didn’t want to show them her power, however – it threw him off a lot. He felt like – he should know what it was by now, but he didn’t. 

Despite Number Four being who he was most uncomfortable with, he found himself tripping up with Number Five the most. Her power let her turn into a murder of crows; and he didn’t know why, but he kept forgetting that’s what it was. He kept expecting something else – her number didn’t suit her, he thought. He was too used to calling her by her real name outside of training. 

He was Number Six. He could open a portal in his stomach and release an eldritch monster called ‘the Horror’ from it, for maximum destruction and chaos. He was always weary using it in training; it seemed to really dislike his new siblings for some reason, and whenever he released it against one of them, he had a lot of trouble reeling it back in. Thankfully, Number Seven was always around to help him keep it under control.

The last one on their team was Number Seven. Her power let her make the opposite of what somebody said the truth by replying ‘I don’t believe you’ to them. He felt it was strange to fight against her, too – he couldn’t quite grasp the fact that she was there training with them in the first place. Whenever he heard someone call her her number – he felt surprised. Like he hadn’t expected her to be there at all. It was stupid, and he was annoyed at himself for thinking this way all the time.

Despite this, Number Seven – or Carla, as he called her outside of training – was who he spent the most time with when they had free time. They would often explore the mansion together, or read in the library. It was she who he went to with his worries, but she was always quick to reassure him.

He thought she was quite smart, too. When their father finally began their schooling in a few more weeks, he was hoping to get the opportunity to study with her. 

It was in preparation of this schooling that Ben often found himself confused. No matter how many times he wracked his mind, he could not remember the reason he had stopped his schooling in the first place. He had lived here his whole life, and had always been homeschooled by Pogo, but he couldn’t think of any reason why that would have stopped when his new siblings had come to live with them. He knew that they would be learning as a group from now on; and he thought that the idea of that should intimidate him, but it didn’t. 

It brought up other strange things he couldn’t explain, too – one evening, he had been going over his textbooks and notes to refresh his brain for when their lessons started up again, and he had come across a stack of notes on his desk he could have sworn he had never seen before. He had frowned, and gone through them of course – only to find that they were very neat and through notes on all his earlier classes.

He couldn’t remember writing those, and they certainly weren’t in his handwriting. Something about that stack of notes had brought his mind to a halt – and he realised that he actually didn’t recognise a lot of the clutter in his room.

It had always been cluttered. He figured he had just collected random stuff over the years and forgotten about it – but some of it he just couldn’t explain.

He didn’t really care about comic books, and yet there were several neatly preserved volumes stuffed in his bookshelf. He had never had an interest in model aeroplanes or scented candles, but both were set out haphazardly over various surfaces. He could not fathom why he had random dresses and girly tops in his closet – and perhaps even stranger than that, was the violin, complete with a book of sheet music, that was resting at the foot of his bed. It was a real and expensive looking violin; he was sure he would remember if he had ever wanted to learn. Which he didn’t. 

Even stranger, was that… he liked it.

This clutter, in his room. He really liked it. It felt warm and full of life, to him. Every time he thought about how he wasn’t even interested in half the stuff that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere – throwing it all out just seemed so integrally wrong. He couldn’t bear to throw any of it away. So he didn’t, and his room was full of all this – random stuff.

He… liked it. Loved it, even. He loved all the random stuff in his room, that he didn’t remember getting and wasn’t even interested in. 

He supposed it was – his. His room, his stuff; of course he would like it. He didn’t give much more thought to the fact that it all seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He took the neat notes, and figured Pogo must have written them out for him. 

In the days leading up to when their schooling restarted, Ben and Carla took up studying together. Ben found it peaceful, and he enjoyed sharing intelligent conversations with her. It gave him an incredibly bittersweet sense of nostalgia, that he couldn’t pinpoint. He figured it was a weird mistake and ignored it. 

One sunny day, they had decided to sit outside in the courtyard to study instead of the library as they usually would. The weather would be turning cooler soon, and neither of them wanted to waste the last few warm days before the wind grew cold and the trees grew red.

He didn’t think he had been to the courtyard much before – he had vague memories of it covered in snow or mud, but nothing clear or significant. He had never, ever gone anywhere his father hadn’t told him to when he was younger. He used to be so afraid of disobedience, but he supposed the presence of so many others now had made it so their father no longer cared where they went. His inexperience with the area was reaffirmed when he spotted an odd sight which he was sure he hadn’t seen before – the far end of the courtyard was a plot for graves. Six graves, all in a row, to be exact, all thirty centimetres apart. 

They looked neglected, weeds and bushes running untamed all over the stones and beyond. Nobody had been near them in a long time. 

There was room right at the end for one more. 

He and Carla sat down on a stone bench nearby them. Carla opened her book and started reading immediately, but Ben couldn’t quite bring himself to look away from the gravestones. Five of them were fancy and extravagant – but the one on the end looked sad and a bit neglected, being a plain slab of stone in comparison to the others. The sight stole his breath away, and his throat grew tight.

“Carla,” he asked breathlessly, nudging her. She made a hum of acknowledgement, but didn’t look up. “Whose graves are those?” He said, motioning towards them.

She did glance up at that, observing the graves for a second before turning to look at him. She gave him a smile. 

“Just people who lived in this mansion before us,” she said. 

Ben frowned. That – couldn’t be right. He could have sworn they were... new, despite the weeds which would suggest otherwise. He had lived here forever – he would know if previous residents were still buried here. Right? 

But… he couldn’t quite remember. Maybe he was wrong.

He got up, putting his study things aside for now. He could feel Carla watching him as he approached the furthest, miserable looking grave. 

He crouched down in front of it, and ran his hand down the side.

 _Vanya Hargreeves,_ it read. The dates were covered by a tangle of overgrown weeds and brambles that were too spiny for him to move aside. Ben’s mouth was dry.

“Just one of Dad’s old relatives,” said Carla. Ben heard her get up as well, moving over to crouch down next to him.

“Come on,” she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get inside, it’s getting cold.”

Ben went with her, staring after the graves the whole time. 

They had a mission that day, but even through the shouts and chaos and thrill of the fight, the graves never left his mind. He ripped open his stomach and eliminated a whole room of criminals – but he couldn’t stop thinking about them. Who else was buried there? What had happened to them? Why was he so concerned with them?

_Vanya Hargreeves._

That evening, after the mission was over, he neglected to go back to his room. Instead, he made his way back into the courtyard to sit on that stone bench.

He stared at the graves, letting the stillness of the courtyard wash over him. He felt… a deep sadness.

He sat there for the rest of the night, quiet tears rolling down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long author's note ahead; it might ruin the finality and nature of the ending, so don’t read it if you’d rather let that sit.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story. I enjoyed writing it. I would like to sincerely thank everyone who read, commented, left kudos, or bookmarked this story; it means a lot to me and I appreciate it heaps :DDD
> 
> Some things which I feel I need to explain:
> 
> This story was never going to have a happy ending. Not only does the premise not really allow for it, but I really love angst – in case you couldn’t tell – so it was destined from the start to just cause as much pain as possible. I’m sorry if this put anyone off the story or left them disappointed with the ending. I hope I still provided you all with a good read regardless :DD 
> 
> I know some people think Carla is a healer, but this is how her and Vanya’s interaction went in the comics:  
> Vanya falls out of her wheelchair, and when Grace tries to pick her up, she says “I can’t walk.”  
> Carla comes along, and says “I don’t believe you.”  
> Vanya suddenly stands up and is able to walk. Vanya says “How?” and Carla says “I said so” with the ‘said’ in that bold and italic comic font that is used for emphasis. Because of this, I am interpreting her power to be like Allison’s, in that her words are able to manipulate reality. If she says “I don’t believe you” to a statement, the opposite becomes true, or something along those lines. Because Ben specifically mentioned always remembering his siblings in his dialogue, this works to make him forget them.
> 
> I don’t think Reginald planned on having Ben forget his family entirely, which is why he still told Ben the purpose of the portrait. It would have been pointless to do that if he was planning on completely erasing his memory, but Ben’s dialogue made it so that was the outcome, and Reginald couldn’t control what Ben said. I feel like Reginald only wanted to make Ben hate the old academy or something rather than erase his entire memory of them, but Reginald’s not complaining.
> 
> We know barely anything about the Sparrow Academy; they have only appeared for the shortest possible amount of time in the comics and information on them is scarce. Because of this, I took some creative liberties when writing them, though I tried to stick to (comic) canon as much as possible. I didn’t mention their names, except for Carla, because Carla is the only known name. I didn’t mention the blonde ponytail girl’s power (here, number four) because there is no information on it. Number One in the comics is implied to have super strength, but I didn’t like the idea of him having the same power as Luther, so I made it tactile telekinesis, which would function in a very similar way. In the comics, the character who can pass physical harm onto others is depicted as a purple blob-like creature, but I changed that as well because I’m not sure that’s realistic in the context of the show compared to the comics. 
> 
> Number order is never mentioned in any sources (that I could find) when referring to the Sparrow Academy, but some people think that Ben is Number One. Since I based the Sparrow Academy pretty much entirely off of the comic counterparts, I got around this issue by having comic Number One be there, but have Ben want the position. He might have gained it by the time the siblings from the show arrive, he might never have gained it. 
> 
> I feel like I could have fleshed out the ending more; but I wrote this entire thing in a very short period of time and by the end I had a bit of burnout. I might improve on it (both chapter 13 and the epilogue) and post better versions later, but we’ll see. 
> 
> I used Sylvia Plath for all the titles because we're doing her in school right now and it was a way to make me really pay attention to her poetry lol. If I was looking for a title, I was forced to read every line and consider it instead of skimming over it like I might have otherwise done. Sylvia Plath’s poetry had the added bonus of being absolutely perfect for a story like this hahaha.
> 
> Also, just something stupid; every time I typed ‘Ben frowned’ google docs wanted me to change it to ‘Ben drowned’ with a blue squiggly line. I found this utterly hilarious. 
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed :D


End file.
